The Secret of the Forest
by The Real Floranocturna
Summary: Thranduil/OC. A tale of bittersweet love, sacrifice and the search for absolution involving an icy Elvenking and a mortal faced with a choice: heal his broken heart or find her way home. Set during the Hobbit timeline.
1. Prologue

**Welcome to my story!**

 ** _A shadow lies on Thranduil and his forest and only a power stronger than the darkness of old can save them. Grief and loss have turned him into a king with a heart of ice and if he is ever to find redemption, the chains of guilt and remorse holding him captive must be broken. But he is running out of time and if he fails, the Woodland Realm with fall with him._**

 ** _When Anna, a mere human, finds herself at his mercy and he mysteriously chooses to keep her alive, she is faced with a choice: heal his broken heart or find her way home; a decision that might tear her apart or make her whole again._**

 ** _A tale of bittersweet love, sacrifice and the search for absolution. (Thranduil x OC)_**

 **This story is set during the timeline of the Hobbit, but with events that reach back to the Silmarillion as well as the Unfinished Tales. It also contains three songs, which my husband has composed as gifts for me (Nameless Lady, Thranduil's Lament & Thranduil's Lullaby). For more information please check out my profile page!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Tolkien's Middle-earth. I do not make any money with this. This is purely for entertainment. The original characters (OC) as well as the plot are mine! Cover made by me, the stunning photograph belongs to Brooke Shaden.**

* * *

 _Prologue_

 _T.A. 1106 The Carrock - On the Edge of the Wild_

Clouds of black smoke rose into the sky, obscuring the last remnants of daylight as the setting sun bled into the horizon. A dreadful tragedy had unfolded earlier that day far away in the North. There, amidst bleak mountains, stood an orcish stronghold that was as hideous as it was evil. Jagged were its towers and windowless its walls. It was a desolate place, condemned to a forlorn existence in a barren wasteland, where neither Men nor Elves would ever dare set foot, unless utter despair drove them into those forsaken lands. Yet someone had come, someone who surely did not belong there. A fair Elvenking, noble and proud, had gone into battle with fierce determination in his eyes and the desire for retribution in his heart. Bright gleamed his armour and his silver elven swords were eager to taste blood. His warriors were most valiant and their shields were raised bravely in defence of their king. But alas, it was to be an ill day for all that was good in this world and the rising fumes were only the echo of the terrible events that had shaken the earth beneath.

Many leagues further south, on a rocky outcrop as grey as the leaden sky, stood a tall and imposing figure. Wrapped in a coarse grey cloak and leaning on his staff, he appeared like a watchful sentinel, weathered and old like the stone under his feet. He drew his bushy eyebrows together in a frown, keen blue eyes gazing intently at the unsettling sky above him. He may not have been able to see whatever was causing this disturbance, but he did not need to, as the forerunners of doom rolled in from the North towards the vast woodlands that stretched out before him. Black clouds, thick and heavy like stone giants, thundered through the sky and their low growling swelled to a deafening rumble as they drew ever nearer. A hushed whisper went through the trees, the wood creaking as if in a desperate warning and then suddenly a flock of birds broke through the net of twigs. Like a myriad of winged leaves, startled by the oncoming storm, they shot up into the sky, their cawing drowned by the roaring wind.

The watcher nodded gravely, his eyes following the black specks until they disappeared from his view. So the tidings would take wings faster than what he would have wished for. He couldn't linger much longer. The evil in the air was palpable as the howling wind picked up speed, crashing against his lonely vantage point like a pack of hungry wolfs. Still, something kept him from leaving, and he turned his concerned gaze back to the forest, where the trees stood huddled together, an army of trunks and branches bracing themselves against the incoming assault. The angry tempest raced over the treetops like a ferocious tide, rattling madly at everything that offered resistance and the trees sighed and shivered beneath the force that hit them, but stood their ground, ancient and resilient as they were.

But then the sky unleashed a power so great it seemed to tear apart the earth itself. A lightning ripped through the sky, cutting across the clouds like a sword cleaving through a veil. In the blink of an eye it had found its target right in the heart of the forest, a mighty oak, taller and older than all the other trees surrounding it. An ear-splitting noise rent the air as it struck the tree, splintering the wood with an overwhelming ease that was frightening to behold. The shockwaves of the sudden impact reverberated through the forest like a ripple through water. A moment of deadly silence, then came the fire. The cloaked man on his outpost gripped the staff tighter with both hands, his eyes widening at the terrible sight as the ancient guardian of the forest succumbed to the power of the flames. Bright like a torch the tree burned, the clouds glowing orange where the flames pierced the darkening sky like blazing spikes. This was the beginning of the end. If no help came, the fire would spread, the majestic trees reduced to nothing but blackened stumps, and the creatures and elves that lived within doomed to a horrible fate.

The old sentry looked around, but there was none other to ask for help and so he did what he had to. For a moment he seemed to grow taller, awe-inspiring even, like a statue of old. Muttering indistinctly under his breath he thrust his staff hard into the rock, a faint glow emerging from its top and then gossamer threads of silver spun themselves around it, shooting up into the sky like bundles of starlight. And so another force arose against the destructive one of the fire, rushing to the aid of the withering tree. It was not a moment too soon, for the flames were ever hungry for more, greedily devouring whatever they could. Bathed in blinding light, the rock and its solitary occupant could be seen from afar like a beacon of hope in a black sea of despair. Rain began pouring down in thick and heavy drops, erratic at first, but then the heavens above opened their floodgates and unleashed an unbridled torrent upon the earth. A grey curtain enshrouded the forest, drowning out the flames and depriving the fire of its power, thick wisps of smoke the only evidence of the disaster that had struck just moments ago. The sigh of relief on the old man's lips was lost in the splattering of water, as he slowly shrank back to his ordinary appearance. Droplets so dense they appeared solid rather than liquid were bouncing off of the rocky ground. In a matter of minutes he was soaked from the tip of his pointy hat to his toes, ankle deep puddles forming rapidly around his boots.

"And so it begins. The deadly shadow moves with haste and without pity," he muttered into his tangled beard, the water trickling down the brim of his hat like rows of silver beads. "But where there is darkness, there is light, however dim it might appear." He adjusted his belt and pulled his hat further down to shield himself from the rain. "Far must I travel to find it though, much further than I have ever wandered." And with those words he turned around and was gone, his cloak a grey ripple in the wind.

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_

 _Some Middle-earth geography to explain where this prologue takes place (you can look up all the places on the map which you hopefully have handy): The Carrock is a stony eyot in the upper reaches of the River Anduin, overlooking the Misty Mountains to the West and Rhovanion (including the forest of Mirkwood) to the East. Far to the North lies the realm of Angmar with Mount Gundabad._

 _Thank you so much for reading! A big thank you goes out to Raider-K for suggesting that I put my story here on FF :)! *bows deeply and offers a cuppa tea*_

 _If you have enjoyed it please leave a review! I would really appreciate it as I'm just getting started here. This has first been published on AO3 in 2016, but this is a partially rewritten and improved version._

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 1 ^^!_


	2. Under the Tree

_Chapter 1 - Under the Tree_

 _August 25, T.A. 2941 - Mirkwood_

Unfamiliar voices in a strange language rose Anna from her sleep. Her drowsiness faded away instantly as she heard them approaching, whoever they were. She scrambled to her feet, hastily brushing off leaves and earth that clung to her clothes. This did not feel right. She had to stay hidden. Instinctively she pressed herself against the mighty oak behind her, the bark rough and warm under her fingers, but one peek around the wide tree trunk was enough for her to realise that she was no longer where she had fallen asleep. The rustling of leaves had made her drowsy and carried her into a deep slumber, but something felt now altogether strange. These woods were not the same, they were way too crooked and gloomy to be growing near her home. Nothing seemed familiar except the tree she was holding on to. Don't panic, she said to herself, there had to be an explanation for this. There always was a logical solution to everything. But first she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Closer and closer the people came and with them the galloping of hooves and floating above everything else soft singing voices. She held her breath as she shrunk against the tree, but Anna's heart was beating like a drum, surely they would hear her and drag her from her hiding place and then she would never make it back home. She closed her eyes as if that would make her somehow invisible as the trail of people passed just behind her tree. It felt like nature itself had burst into song and was now filling her heart with images of far away places she had never seen, but somehow felt strangely drawn to, like a home she had never known it existed. The tree itself seemed to come alive under her touch, as if it were joining the tune, a song as old as the world itself. Her heart was suddenly overflowing with a yearning that came from an unknown place deep inside her. She was inexplicably pulled towards it with its ethereal voices, but somehow she was frozen to the spot, her legs wouldn't move and so the floating harmonies slowly faded, an echo of themselves, still filling the air but ever fainter as they moved past her tree and deeper into the forest.

Relief and sadness mingled in her heart as she dared open her eyes again and allowed herself a quick glance around the tree. It was an extraordinary sight indeed, strange people dressed in long elaborate gowns and with flowing hair well past their shoulders, bows and arrows slung around their backs, their horses gliding along effortlessly, a graceful picture of both elegance and melancholy. If she wouldn't have known it better she would have said they were Elves, but of course that was not possible, how could it?

"Don't move!" A commanding voice behind her told her that she was not alone. Of course it was foolish of her to have thought that her presence would go unnoticed, and by the sound of it her captor was more inclined to be hostile than friendly towards her.

"Please," she raised her arms to show that she was unarmed. "Don't hurt me."

"That remains to be seen."

The stern voice was now closer behind her and she could feel what was unmistakably the tip of a sword against her back. Her heart was beating so fast she feared it would burst and she broke out in a cold sweat. This was not good, not good at all.

"Let me go, please!" she whispered almost inaudibly, her throat dry.

"Not until you have answered my questions." Calm and assertive was the voice and its deep and melodic tone stirred up an intriguing mixture of fear and curiosity inside her.

"Turn around. And don't try to run away, you would not get far."

This condescending superiority would have otherwise instantly titillated her spirit of contradiction. But she was admittedly at a point of slight disadvantage, so she recurred to her right to remain silent. Stay focused, don't do anything rash and everything will be all right, she said to herself as she slowly turned around.

Nothing prepared her for what she saw: a vision from another world was more like it. She had never seen anything or anyone so beautiful. He stood before her tall and slender with broad shoulders and the athletic physique of a skilled fighter, his pointed ears unmistakably identifying him as one of the Elves. He was draped in an ornate brocade robe of ash grey with tiny speckles of pearly white, a silver circlet and bejewelled fingers suggesting a noble descent, his long pale blonde hair glowing like the moonlight illuminates the darkness of night, ice blue eyes like the cold of a winter morning gazing intently at her.

"Am I dead?" was the only thing she blurted out.

The slightest of smiles passed his otherwise unyielding face: "No, not that I am aware of; not yet at least."

He held his sharp blade advanced keeping her at a distance and circled around her slowly with the curiosity of a predator examining his prey. Anna could barely breathe and even less think straight as she felt herself under his piercing gaze being carefully assessed and evaluated. There was a heavy silence as he paced around her with measured steps, his eyes lingering on her longer than what she felt comfortable with.

"So, tell me: who are you and what are you doing in these lands?" his tone now slightly more nonchalant as he seemed to have concluded that she was no immediate threat. He sheathed his sword, crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly.

"I don't know. I mean, I—I am no one." She was trying to keep her wits together, but her brain seemed to have decided otherwise, gaping black holes opening up where there had former been a sharp mind. She struggled to make sense of her awkward situation while hoping to act as unsuspecting as possible. Something she failed miserably at.

"Well, no one of importance at least," she said with a crooked smile. With rising panic she realised that she could not even recall her name anymore. This would not end well for her.

"And I have no idea how I got here." Maybe if she threw some questions at him he would forget his inquiry? Well, it was worth a try. He did not look evil enough to want to kill her right away.

"What is this place? Some sort of magical forest? And who are you and why were you pointing your sword at me?"

The elf arched his eyebrows ever so slightly and she immediately regretted her somewhat uncontrolled outburst. He seemed more amused though than offended.

"I believe I am the one asking the questions here, but to partially satisfy your curiosity: yes it is a forest and you might find magic within it if you look well. But it is also a dangerous place, so you are well-advised not to be roaming around alone. Besides, we do not suffer strangers in our lands these days."

With these last words he bent down towards her, a cold glare in his eyes and she instinctively took a step back until her hands felt the rough surface of the tree trunk behind her and there was nowhere else for her to go.

"So, I am asking you again: who are you and why are you here? And believe me, I am not here to play games."

He straightened himself, drumming his fingers delicately against the hilt of his sword. But his towering presence alone was intimidating enough to make her knees weak and her cheeks flush bright red in anxious embarrassment. She averted her eyes, staring at a spot right beside his shoulder, while muttering an unintelligible apology.

"I cannot hear you. Speak up please. Or do I need to use my sword again?" There was a malice in his voice as if he was enjoying himself quite a lot more than she felt appropriate.

"No, no! Please!" she was quick to answer. The last thing she needed was to get this volatile stranger to point his blade at her again. Come on, think, think! She needed to come up with a logical explanation of who she was and why she was here in this most unlikely of all places, something that would be much easier if her intellect had not deserted her at the speed of galloping horses. So she went for the next best explanation that she could think of, all the while talking to his shoulder rather than his face.

"I will be honest with you. I come from far away and I was travelling to my friend's place when I got lost here in this forest. I am just an ordinary person, please, you have to believe me. I actually write books for children, so I am really nice and not dangerous and I did not mean to offend you in any way. So please would you just let me go so I can continue with my journey." She congratulated herself on her short but witty story, particularly the part about the children's books, hoping to have found his soft spot. Oh, how wrong she was!

His face darkened: "I believe your journey ends here. You will go no further."

Then everything was but a blur. In an instant he had drawn his sword, pointing the silvery blade directly at her heart. Anna froze in shock, her breath stuck in her throat as he dragged the sword up her chest deliberately slow until the cold metal hovered right above the pulsating vein in her neck.

"Don't lie to me! I have no mercy with liars," he growled at her. A dangerous glint was in his eyes, a relentless demand for answers, his mouth twisted in anger. Anna's fingers dug into the bark behind her, looking for a hold so she would not be swept away by her agonising fear. She only stared at him, her eyes wide and her lips trembling. So this would be her last moment, it flashed through her head. She would die at the hands of a mysterious elf, far away from home and no one would ever know what had happened to her.

"I—I," she stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence with the abyss of death opening up before her.

He narrowed his eyes, holding the sword advanced with measured precision. "I am warning you," he said and his voice had gone dangerously low. "You are at my mercy now, a human trespassing these lands, and you are just one syllable away from being a dead one."

She felt the sharp sting of tears rise in her eyes, cold sweat crawling all over her skin. "Please stop," she pleaded, a rising lump in her throat choking her voice.

But she had awoken something inside him, dangerous and dark, an enigmatic power beyond her human existence, both awe-inspiring and terrible to behold.

"When you are prepared to tell me the truth, I will be prepared to let you go. Until then you are mine."

His crystal blue eyes bore into hers and in a moment beyond time she lost herself in his eternity, endless, cold and beautiful like starlight in the darkness of night. And something in those depths suddenly floated to the surface, a trace of sorrow and grief that hit her straight at heart, pulling her in.

"But I need to go back," she protested weakly, still mesmerised by his gaze and kept in check by his sword.

"I do not think so," he said, retreating the blade and stepping away from her. "You are coming with me now. And there will be no dissent."

Anna still didn't dare to move as if he had turned her to stone with his gaze.

"I promise that I will not hurt you if you follow me willingly." Seeing the doubt in her eyes he added: "You have my word."

Anna's heart was still racing as adrenalin shot through her veins, her mind trying to grasp the meaning of these recent events. Her whole body was shaking, her hands glued to the tree behind her and her knees threatening to give in, but with the last shreds of composure she was able to pull herself together and manage to stand up straight.

"Promise?" she croaked, her voice a mere shadow of itself.

"Yes," he said, sheathing his blade, and when he drew himself up to his full height she could not help but think that he looked nothing short of a king.

She pondered her options, but she had to admit to herself that she was seriously lost and trying to escape was futile: she had no idea where she was and in an ironic twist of fate this daunting warrior was apparently the closest she had to help her out of her predicament. Despite his menacing appearance there was something alluring about him. More than one dark secret seemed to loom behind this haughty facade.

"Have you made your choice?" His voice had returned to its initial calm aloofness while his eyes still bore the remnants of an icy glare.

Anna pushed all those voices in her head that screamed 'No!' to the back of her mind and gave him a small nod. "Yes. I will go with you." Maybe she could still find a way to escape. She needed time to think, process all this. Then she might be able to see clearer. "But I have one request," she added boldly.

"And what is that?" A shadow of impatience flickered over his face while his posture remained still and motionless like the surface of a frozen lake.

"I will go with you, but I will not have you tie me up like a prisoner."

She threw him a sideways glance, preparing herself for another outbreak of wrath. With an almost inaudible sigh he replied: "Very well then. So be it. But I will hold you to your word. And if you try to run, I will not be gentle with you." His words, though softly spoken, were a scarcely veiled threat should she try to defy him. "Is that clear?"

"Yes." Her answer was barely a whisper, but a small smile of satisfaction around his lips told her he had heard her clear enough.

He took her by her elbow and led her away from the tree and through a narrow pathway lined by a dense thicket of shrubs and scattered blueberries into a small clearing surrounded by gnarled oak trees and sweeping beeches. And there along the far edge across the lush grass she saw it: an enormous elk with antlers as wide as the branches of a tree, leisurely grazing while awaiting the return of its master. If she needed any more proof that she was not anywhere near home, well this was the last piece of evidence. Never ever had she seen an animal more likely to have been extracted from a fairy-tale than this.

"Oh!" was all she said as she was led towards this creature, irrefutably impressive and undeniably graceful despite its immense size. Sensing the presence of its master it raised its majestic head and started trotting towards them.

"Wait, you are not telling me that we are riding on this— this giant elk?!"

Anna's eyes darted from the colossal mass of brown fur back to the elf by her side. She stopped in her tracks and squeezed his arm a little too tight. Her incredulous stare brought a condescending smile to his face as he turned towards her: "I reassure you that this animal of mine will not do you any harm. It will carry us both safely."

She swallowed hard trying to not let her anxiety show too much as the elk stopped in front of its master bowing its head low in a gesture of reverence. She caught a glimpse of tenderness in the stranger's eyes as he caressed the animal, softly stroking the thick brown fur between the antlers and murmuring words in a foreign language she did not understand. After giving the elk an encouraging pat he took the reins, beckoned her to him and pointed at the stirrups.

"You will go first." Seeing the hesitation in her face he added "This is an order and I expect it to be followed. Do not stretch my patience, as it is wearing thin already."

"But I have never…I don't know how to do this," she stuttered.

He offered her his hand. "I will help you."

She took it and his slender fingers closed tightly around hers and while she reached for the saddle he pushed her up with his other hand firmly against her lower back until she was securely seated. She was so far up from the ground that she felt like floating in the air, almost brushing the branches of the nearest tree, her feet dangling high above the stirrups. With lithe elegance and effortless ease he brought himself up into the saddle right behind her.

Once they were both seated he leaned towards her: "One more thing: I promised that I would not tie your hands, but I must insist to blindfold you." Sensing an outburst of protest from her side he chose his words with adamant determination:

"This is non-negotiable. My palace lies well hidden deep inside the heart of this forest. And I do wish for it to remain this way."

She turned her head sideways, her eyes wide in surprise: "Your palace? Who are you then? Will you not at least give me your name now that I am coming with you?"

He considered her request, his bearing proud and unyielding:

"I am Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Woodland Realm. And this is my kingdom. So: my lands, my rules."

And with those words he reached into his robe and pulled out a thin and delicate cloth of the same dark grey and silver to cover her eyes. He tied it with a tight knot behind her head and darkness surrounded her.

Thus deprived of her power of sight she felt her remaining senses suddenly sharpened. Her hands stroked the elk's coarse mane, filling her with a strange feeling of comfort. The smell of wood, earth and a distinct musky scent wafted around her, a swirling mixture of memories long forgotten and wishes not yet granted. She felt dizzy and confused: with her sense of direction gone the loss of home weighed even heavier on her heart. Searching for a hold she leaned against the chest of the Elvenking and even through the layers of both of their clothes she could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat slow and steady against her back, while her own was racing wild, pumping frantically like an obnoxious drum. She feared that she would either faint or fall or worse: both, possibly in that order. He must have sensed her despair, trembling like a leaf and clinging to the saddle a little too tight. In a gesture both possessive and protective he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. Warmth flowed through her like the golden rays of the afternoon sun after the passing of a thunderstorm.

"Don't let go, please!" was all she said.

"I won't," he murmured into her hair.

Both of them smiled without the other one knowing.

And thus began her unexpected journey.

To be continued…

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter and are eager to follow Anna on her journey to Thranduil's palace.**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for Chapter 2 ^^!**


	3. In the Halls of the King

A big thank you to all those lovely people who have reviewed the first chapter and have made my start here such a pleasant one: Elvenprincesscher, thrndlwood, The Enchanted Stream, Charming Ever After, AutumnSparkle, the Catbird Seat and of course Raider-K, whose support is the best I could have asked for!

So, onwards to the second chapter it is!

* * *

 _Chapter 2 - In the Halls of the King_

Darkness was all she saw on her way to the Elvenking's palace. The steady trotting of hooves made her dizzy and if she had not been so preoccupied and anxious about her future she might have even dozed off. Unknown sounds and unfamiliar smells swirled around her, surreal like a dream and still awkwardly present, a deviant reality beyond the normality she knew. Thranduil maintained his grip on her body firm throughout their journey, creating a strange combination of both comfort and menace. The warmth of his body was as palpable as was the coldness of his countenance, a lucid fire smouldering underneath a coat of ice.

The elk responded to Thranduil's slightest commands without any words, his motions swift and steady despite its double cargo. After what felt like an endless meandering through winding pathways and across narrow creeks they finally drew near their destination. They were slowing down considerably, the distinct rataplan of hooves on cobblestone accompanied by a gurgling rush of water and an ample echo suggesting the crossing of a bridge.

They came to a halt and at a sharp command from Thranduil the hollow creaking of massive stone doors on their hinges being pulled open cut through the silence. A bustling of voices greeted them as she was being led into the Elvenking's palace. How much she wished that she could just pull away the cloth from her eyes and look around, such a strange and marvellous place this must be just by the sound of it. But she had made a promise and as hard as her patience was now tried she would not give in to curiosity, not yet at least.

Thranduil dismounted, his hand reaching out for hers indicating that she was supposed to do the same. "Come," he said. "You will be led to my chambers while I attend to pressing matters that have reached me as we arrived. You will be treated as my guest, there will be food and clothing should you wish so. But you are not to leave my quarters without my consent, under no circumstances. Do you understand?"

Anna nodded and it was clear to her that she was not really just his 'guest' but more of an almost-prisoner until he knew what to do with her.

"This is all very confusing for me. Can I at least ask you to take off my blindfold? I assure you that I am not a spy of whatever sort you may think."

The silence beside her could only mean that he was pondering his decision.

"And I promise I will not try to escape, if that helps," she added quickly to further emphasise her honest intentions.

"Not yet; we will see about that later. Go now, my guards will lead you to my chambers." He cut her off abruptly and before she could reply she was swept away by guards on either side.

* * *

How many hours went by until Thranduil came to see her in his chambers she did not know, but the fact that he had literally left her in darkness for so long had cast a shadow on her spirit. She felt lonely, abandoned and disoriented like an orphaned child. Even though she was intimidated by Thranduil's commanding attitude, his presence had also meant that she was most likely protected from whatever other evil things which might befall her in this strange world. Not knowing where she was and what was her fate she had refused food and drink and decided to remain on the bench the guards had led her to, eventually giving in to tiredness and lying down. She pulled her knees up and wept herself into a dreamless sleep.

A sudden change in the ambience woke Anna from her restless slumber. The guards behind her shuffling their feet and the echo of approaching steps made her sit up straight only to realise that she still would not be able to see anything, even with her eyes open. She didn't know how much longer would she be able to stay blindfolded without the urge to just rip the cloth from her eyes becoming unbearably strong.

It was unmistakably Thranduil's voice that commanded the guards to leave. His presence close to her sent her nervousness beyond unimagined heights. She was like a prisoner not bound by ropes but by darkness and it seemed that Thranduil was in no hurry to relieve her situation. There was a long silence as neither of them said a word and only the steady purl of water of a nearby fountain or pool filled the air. Maybe he was either studying her or expecting her to come forth with a confession of some kind. The tension reached unbearable limits when he took a seat beside her and her fingernails dug into the velvet surface of the cushion in a desperate attempt of holding on to something when she had seemingly lost everything.

"Hold out your hand." When finally he spoke she was surprised at the gentleness of his voice. There was no trace of anger in it, only a commanding calmness which would not brook any defiance.

Her hands clung to the bench and she could not will them to move, as if letting go meant losing all the hold that she still had left.

"I will not hurt you. I gave you my word."

After seconds seemingly stretching into an eternity she raised her right hand which he closed with his own around the smooth and polished metal of a heavy goblet. She let out a surprised gasp, his hand steadying her grip.

"Don't drop it." Slight amusement rang through his words. "You are my guest and I see that you have not touched any of the food and drink that has been offered to you. I insist that you drink this. It is a sweet Dorwinion wine, one of my best." After a short silence he added: "And I do not take no for an answer."

"But how I am I to know that you are not going to poison me or somehow else kill me?!" She immediately regretted her undue outburst, but there was no way to take back her words and besides, she was just being honest. She would not be able to keep her countenance calm in this status of uncertainty for much longer. And somewhere in the back of her mind there was a warning going off never to accept food or drink from strangers, even more so if they were not human.

"You don't. So my word will just have to suffice." He brought his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his breath tingle on her neck. "But let me tell you this: if I would have wanted to hurt you or kill you I could have already done so numerous times." He lowered his voice to a dangerous growl: "I will not have you refuse my hospitality." Anticipating another objection he tightened his grip on her hand: "Do not antagonise me."

He let go of her hand, her fingers tensing around the goblet. Anna's mind was racing, it felt like this was the point of no return, if she would drink this it would somehow seal her coming into this world, shutting the path of return, entwining her fate with his. But there was nothing for it, it was either drink this or incur this strange Elvenking's wrath, which was not something she was keen on. Maybe he would kill her after all if she didn't comply.

She took a deep breath and put the cup to her lips taking a tentative sip. Unexpected warmth filled her weary heart like the golden sun caressing her on a warm summer day as the liquid passed her throat. Never had she drank anything so sweet and delicious, she could literally taste the ripe fruit among the heavy scent of unknown fragrant flowers. Images of lush valleys under sapphire skies bathed in sunlight appeared before her inner eye and without another thought she drained the whole cup like someone who was dying of thirst.

He took the goblet from her hand before it would slip from her fingers as dizziness seeped through her veins, crawling rapidly up to her head. This wine was not only exceptionally delightful but also much stronger than any human made wine and she feared that she would either collapse or start talking nonsense, both things not really desirable in her situation.

"Now, this was not so bad, or was it?" His voice sounded more velvety than ever, spreading like liquid fire under her skin and setting her every pore ablaze with its flames.

"It was wonderful. I have never tasted anything like it before." Anna felt considerably lightheaded and being still deprived of her power of vision she had trouble sitting up straight.

"I do not doubt that. It is indeed a splendid wine." He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his fingers lingering on her skin just long enough to make her shiver under his touch.

Before her courage would leave her again Anna decided to take a plunge and get ahead of a possible interrogation that she was sure he had in mind. As much as she hated being blindfolded, now it actually provided her with a certain sense of comfort. Not being able to see his reaction to her words emboldened her and she felt braver than she actually was. She was going to tell him the truth, even though she did not even quite know what was the truth any more. Her past seemed to melt more and more into a vague framework of someone else's life.

"I am sorry that I lied to you. That was wrong, please forgive me. I just didn't know what to say, so I came up with this silly story."

She paused, waiting for his reply, but he only said: "Go ahead. I am listening."

She swallowed hard and then the words just poured from her mouth:

"I don't know who I am any more. I—I seem to have lost my past. Everything from before the moment I woke up under the tree where you found me is but a blur, shrouded in fog. It is like a dream slowly fading away. The harder I try to hold on to pieces of my memories, the faster they disappear. People and places, friends and family, everything just slips through my fingers and I cannot do anything to stop it."

Her voice was on the verge of cracking, the last words barely a whisper. "I cannot even remember my name any more." She wrung her hands in despair. "This is the truth, I swear. And you are my only hope of ever finding my way back. Will you help me, please? I beg you!"

She felt tears welling up and an ever growing lump in her throat made it impossible for her to keep going without losing her poise. He said nothing. The silence was unbearable.

"Please," she was desperate, "why won't you say anything? Something? You have to believe me, I—"

She broke off as he suddenly leaned closer towards her, the scent of forest leaves and berries enveloping her.

"Who are you, strange girl, and why did you come here?" he said softly, his voice devoid of all coldness.

"I—I don't know," she whispered, her body taut as a bowstring. "But please —,"

His finger reached under her chin to tilt it up. "What do you seek here?" he inquired, but Anna was paralysed, her last remnants of coherent speech swiftly fading beneath his touch.

"N—nothing. And I—I didn't want to come here," she stammered, wishing that he would just stop asking her those questions to which she knew no answers.

"But yet you did," he said, his warm breath so close it clouded her senses and after a moment of silence he added: "I see shadows where you came from. You bring with you unrest and —," he inhaled sharply and pulled the cloth from her eyes in one brisk motion.

The sudden explosion of light around her blinded her like a cloudless summer sky. She buried her face in her hands, trying to relieve the all too sudden transition from darkness to light. Thranduil observed her closely, but remained silent.

Timidly she took in her surroundings, an ample chamber with tall columns, delicately carved, deeply hidden inside or more likely even under the forest. Lavishly furnished and tastefully decorated the king's chamber also sported a wide pool, spring-fed by a happily gurgling fountain at the far side of its walls. Deep amber and a mossy green enwrought with speckles of silver and gold imparted these rooms an aura of earthiness with a distinct layer of melancholy. Anna was smitten with amazement, unable to tear her eyes away from all the magnificent splendour.

But rather sooner than later her gaze was inevitably drawn to Thranduil himself, who had changed into a long robe of gold and green, its iridescent texture reminding her of the bark of the tree where he had found her. A sweeping cloak of heavy brocade was elegantly draped around his shoulders, the sparkling silver with a lustrous lining in deep shiny orange engulfing him in a blazing aura of fire and ice. On his head he wore the most extravagantly shaped crown of twigs, leaves and berries she had ever seen. If she had thought him intimidating when she saw him in the forest, his present appearance left her speechless. Her breath hitched in her throat when her eyes finally found his. There was but the faintest glimmer of empathy in them that she had not seen there before. Still, their piercing intensity made her feel like he was looking straight into her soul, laying bare her innermost wishes and desires. It was slightly unsettling to say the least.

"Your sudden appearance is in indeed most curious and I am not quite certain what to make of it," he said, eyeing her with a scrutinising glance as he stowed away the small piece of cloth in the pocket of his robe. "But be that as it may, I am willing to grant you the benefit of the doubt, as your words seem to be sincere."

"Thank you," she said, a glimmer of hope dawning on her gloomy horizon. "Thank you for believing me." Without giving it any further thought she added quickly: "And I do wish to go home more than anything. So I would be most grateful for your help."

The flicker of empathy died in his eyes and Anna wished that for once she had kept her mouth shut instead of blurting out something she did not really mean.

Stern was his expression and his voice unexpectedly cold like winter's frost when he spoke again:

"If you are so sure about it then I will offer you whatever help I can provide so you can get back to where you came from. Assuming that this is what you truly want."

Of course it was. Or was it? What else could she possibly want? Anna swallowed, feeling suddenly exposed. It was as if he had read her mind, the struggle that unfurled inside her apparently obvious on her face.

"But what _is_ your heart's true desire?" He threw her a suggestive look, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly.

She opened her mouth, but no answer left it, not with him staring at her like that. So she lowered her gaze, looking at her hands, that lay twisted and clammy in her lap, hoping that he would not keep pressing for an answer; which to her surprise he did not.

He stood up, preparing to go, his manner polite, but reserved:

"Well, I shall leave you to it then. Tell me when you have come to a decision. And you better be truthful about it. I will know it if you are lying."

She looked up to him, stunned, still not finding any words, as if he had stolen her ability to speak. An hour ago she would have given anything to be able to go back and find her past life, wherever that was, but now she was not so sure any more.

With a slight inclination of his head he addressed her in a formal tone: "While you remain in my halls you might as well join me at tonight's banquet as my guest. We have not had a visitor from a truly foreign land in quite a while. It is _mereth_ _nuin_ _giliath_ , the feast under the stars. I will send Feren to call upon you."

"But where are you going?" She called after him as he turned to leave and she had partially regained her ability to speak, though she still was heavily inebriated by the wine. "What am I to do now? You cannot just leave me!"

He stopped in his tracks, a condescending glare in his eyes. "Yes, I can."

He sighed, his annoyance as clear as daylight. "My dear, you seem to forget that I have a kingdom to rule. I cannot just spend all my time here with you. Strange people are passing through my lands these days, dwarves and who knows else. And there are numerous other important matters that require my attention. Surely you understand."

Anna nodded, ashamed and embarrassed at her own ignorance. How silly of her to only think of herself, after all she was just a small insignificant human, lost in his wide Elven kingdom.

Seeing her all crestfallen he veered towards a more forgiving tone. "I am merely offering you a chance to ponder your options, as my guest, not my prisoner. You might want some time to weigh your options. And you may now also wander around freely in these halls."

He opened his arms in a sweeping motion to underline his generosity and turned on his heels to leave, the trail of his cloak billowing behind him like rippling waves of pure silver and burnt orange.

He halted at the door, a smirk on his face. "But try not to get lost. _Again_."

To be continued …

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_ Thank you for reading and please leave a review if you have enjoyed this chapter!


	4. The Banquet

A big thank you to all those who have reviewed chapter 2: thrndlwood, Raider-K, AutumnSparkle, Charming Ever After and Catbird Seat! You are the best!

* * *

 _Chapter 3 - The Banquet_

In a matter of minutes Thranduil's chamber transformed into a bustling beehive, dark-haired elves coming and going, always graceful despite their busy rush. Anna stayed put on the bench where Thranduil had left her, not really knowing how to fit in and what to do next.

Luckily she was spared the choice of doing something possibly awkward when an amiable elven lady approached her with a bundle of neatly folded clothes draped around her arm.

"My dear," she said, smiling down at her encouragingly, "you must be tired from your journey."

Her eyes were a light grey and her long brown hair with braids on either side framed her pale face beautifully. A long green dress flowed around her, complementing her dark hair and fair skin. She was of an ageless beauty beyond the count of human years, but the giddy excitement with which she approached Anna told her that she might be still quite young, at least in elven years.

Anna smiled at her wryly. "Yes I am." As a matter of fact she was exhausted, but not nearly as much from her journey as from her stirring emotional encounter with the Elvenking.

The elleth pointed at the space beside Anna. "May I?" Anna nodded weakly. After laying the clothes on the nearby table she made herself comfortable beside Anna.

"I am Brethilwen. My Lord Thranduil sent me to look after you and help you prepare for tonight's banquet."

"Prepare? But why…?" Her question earned her an irritated look.

"Well, it is obvious that you cannot go like this!" Brethilwen's hand waiving in the general direction of her less than elegant non-elvish appearance. "It is a lavish feast with illustrious guests and you need to be dressed accordingly."

"But I do not feel that I am ready for such an occasion. I cannot even understand why I should be invited to this gathering. I am not an elf, just human; and not even from here." Anna shook her head, mumbling "and I am still wondering how I got here."

"If the king wishes you to attend his banquet he will have his reasons. You are to abide by his rules, not to question his authority." Her matter-of-fact voice would not brook any dissent. "And besides it is an honour rarely granted to anyone outside the royal family, even less an _adaneth_. You can count yourself blessed for he has chosen you above many others." She saw the look of confusion on her face. "Ah, yes I am sorry, you do not speak our language, I imagine?"

Anna shook her head. "No, I don't."

Brethilwen was eager to give her an explanation. "When we are amongst ourselves we use our tongue which is Sindarin, but when we have dealings with others we use Westron as well, the Common Speech, you know. So when I called you _adaneth_ , it means that you are a mortal woman, not an elf." She had a look on her face as if she hoped for Anna to ask her more questions.

Anna obliged: "So, what does your name mean then? It sounds very beautiful."

"Oh it means beech maiden. You see, for us the forest with all its trees, flowers and beasts is a place of beauty that we cherish beyond anything else. All living things are sacred to the Elves, we live amongst them and we are a part of them. So has it always been and will it ever be." The wisdom of the ages seemed to ring through her words and for a moment they were both silent beside each other.

Brethilwen seemed to ponder something when she finally spoke to Anna in a hushed voice. "Humans rarely come to us now from the other side, and if they do, they are most likely lost."

Anna glanced at Brethilwen, a confused look in her eyes. The other side? What did she mean by that? But before she could ask, Brethilwen had already changed the subject, possibly realising that she may have unwillingly revealed something she was not supposed to hear; at least not from her mouth. "Do you want me to show you around in the palace?" She looked at Anna with eager eyes, barely being able to contain her joy at the prospect of being her guide. "How about tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, sure." Anna nodded in agreement, not wanting to appear impolite. "That would be nice."

"Very well then. It is decided. That is of course if Lord Thranduil does not have other plans for you." This was becoming increasingly confusing. What other plans? She could not shake off the feeling that she was being treated like a piece on a chessboard, moved around as others pleased. If only she was in full possession of her memory, she would not feel so helpless. But over the course of the last hours it had only gotten worse. Whatever shadowy shreds of her previous life she may have retained, they were evaporating quickly, leaving her bare and empty. Nevertheless she put on a brave smile, since Brethilwen was just trying to make her involuntary stay as comfortable as possible.

"Will you be at the banquet tonight?" A small flicker of hope dawned on Anna's face.

"No, of course not," she was quick to respond.

"But why not?" Her heart sank at the prospect of not having her by her side.

"Oh, we servants do not participate in these festivities, you know." She shrugged. "But do not be troubled my lady, I will be here for you tomorrow and any other day should you enquire my services."

Anna smiled gratefully, still feeling uneasy at the prospect of being surrounded by strangers and having to face the King again.

"So, should we get you ready then?" Brethilwen rose from her seat beside her and took Anna's hand, pointing at the murmuring waters of the pool. The warmth of Brethilwen's hand provided Anna with a sense of comfort, a comfort she dearly longed for.

She glanced at the inviting turquoise surface and nodded. "Yes, you are right. I probably could really use a relaxing bath now."

* * *

A soft knock at the door announced the arrival of Feren, who was going to accompany her to the banquet hall. He was a stern looking elf, proud in bearing, thin and lean with dark hair like all the others except the king. He addressed her with a small nod.

"My lady, the king asks for your presence at the banquet. Whenever you are ready, would you please be so kind as to follow me?"

Brethilwen answered in her stead. "Oh, she is quite ready." She smiled at Anna, satisfied with her own work. Anna was a strange sight to herself when she glanced at the mirror Brethilwen had placed in front of her. The sheen dark grey dress adorned with delicate silver leaves along the seams fitted her surprisingly well, despite the fact that she was a good deal shorter than the elves. A silver belt like woven branches was slung around her hips and a sleeveless cloak of a lighter grey fastened with a gem of dark green rested on her shoulders. Her sleek honey coloured hair braided in elvish fashion harmonised pleasantly with the grass green of her eyes. She almost looked like one of them if it weren't for the lack of pointed ears and the abundance of freckles on her nose and cheeks, she thought to herself with slight amusement as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She did not quite feel like herself at all.

She glanced at Brethilwen. "How do I look?"

"You look lovely my dear. The King will be pleased." With an encouraging smile she sent her on her way with Feren. "Go now, I will see you tomorrow."

The doors of the great hall were pulled open before her and never had she seen a more splendid sight than this. Countless chandeliers illuminated the vast hall, which had been delved into the rock with pillars as tall as trees. It was like stepping into the inside of a living tree full of golden light like amber glowing in the sunlight. So ample was the hall that the surrounding walls lay in complete twilight. It seemed that there were none at all and it was like a gathering in the midst of a forest.

On an ornate seat of wood at the head of the oval shaped table sat the king and her heart skipped a beat at the sight. She had to force herself to stay calm and keep her poise, when all she could think of was the strange conglomerate of fear and longing he had stirred up inside her. His dark grey robe glimmered beneath the candlelight and his velvet cloak of deep burgundy was draped decoratively around his seat. On his head he wore a silver circlet, his pale blonde hair falling down his shoulders in perfect strands. Against the backrest leaned a tall oaken staff with intricate adornments of silver. But then her eyes were caught by another face beside the king. He was much alike him, his hair of a golden blonde, which he wore in braids, not open like Thranduil, whose hair seemed to be above all kind of adornments. The likeness in looks brought her to the conclusion that he too must be a member of the royal family, although he had a more approachable and less aloof air about him than the king. Thranduil's eyes darted towards Anna, and for an instant she saw him stunned, a look of awe and appreciation on his face.

"My lord Thranduil, your guest is here." The moment Feren had announced Anna's arrival, all eyes turned to her and she could feel the blood rush to her head, hoping that she would be able to make her way to her seat without embarrassing herself in front of everyone.

"Ah, there she is, our mysterious lady." Thranduil beckoned her to step forward to introduce her to his guests. She stepped into the light, her hesitance gradually receding as she saw friendly faces smiling at her.

"This charming young woman is my guest. She is a traveller from far away lands and wishes for her name to remain unknown."

Well, that was an elegant way to put her predicament, when even she herself couldn't remember her name! She blushed and bowed her head as everyone acknowledged her presence with a small inclination of their heads.

Feren guided Anna to her seat just opposite of the king in between two elves with jovial faces that were dressed in almost identical dark blue tunics, just like brothers. She had hardly sat down, when they took her in their midst, involving her in an animated conversation about food, wine and life in the forest in general, making her almost forget that she did not really belong here. The two of them obviously loved hearing themselves speak, so she barely had a chance to contribute anything significant to the whole conversation apart from "Oh!", "Ah!" and "Really?". Halfway through the banquet she finally learned their names, Faeldir and Amardir, and brothers they were indeed and the most charming companions she could have hoped for. In the course of the evening many songs were sung and tales were told, half of which she did not understand and the other half was interpreted to her by Faeldir and Amardir, who took turns in translating to her what was said and sung. Beauty, sadness and melancholy were the three main ingredients of them all and although they sounded strange to her it was the same eerie beauty that had touched her deep inside when she had woken up under that tree in the forest.

After some delicious food and more goblets of wine Anna was brave enough to ask them about the blonde elf beside the king.

"Oh, that my dear lady is Legolas, and he is the king's son. He is a formidable archer," Amardir was quick to respond. Faeldir leaned in from the other side, nodding vigorously. "Well, as a matter of fact, he is the best."

A sting of jealousy flashed through her chest. Where there was a son, there had to be a mother, the queen, Thranduil's wife. Of course, how silly of her to think that a great king like Thranduil would not have a wife. But why was she not by his side? Slightly inebriated by the wine she dared to throw the delicate question at Faeldir.

"But what about his mother, the queen, were is she?"

Amardir was the one who answered, gesturing his brother to be silent. "The king does not talk about it, and I am sure he wishes for it to remain this way."

The sudden change of tone in his voice was striking and it did not help to appease her feeling of jealousy, but rather augmented it, which was of course completely uncalled-for. She had to remind herself that she was only a stranger in these lands after all and that these matters were really none of her concern. Amardir noticed her silence and his tone softened again.

"I am sorry my lady, I did not intend to sound rude, but this is a very delicate subject and only the king himself will decide when and to whom he will speak about it. You do understand, my dear? It is nothing against you."

She nodded. "Yes, of course, I understand." For the rest of the evening she could not help but feeling downcast and the few times Thranduil glanced briefly at her did not do anything to alleviate her lingering glumness. Even the wine left a sour taste in her mouth.

* * *

As the banquet drew to a close Thranduil ordered everyone to leave with an idle wave of his hand. Anna rose from her seat to join the bustling stream of guests behind Amardir and Faeldir. But she had not even left the table when he addressed her directly. "Not you! You will stay."

She stopped dead in her tracks and threw him a confused look, but his eyes would not give away anything. Why would he want her to stay? He had not exchanged a single word with her during the entire evening apart from greeting her and introducing her to his other guests at the beginning. Once in a while his gaze would linger on her, but never long enough for it to mean something other than pure coincidence.

"Sit down. Please." He pointed at her seat and Anna reluctantly sank back onto her cushion waiting for the last of the elves to leave the hall.

There was an awkward silence as the doors closed behind the crowd, sweeping with them all the cheerful chatter, and the hall fell eerily quiet as only she and Thranduil remained. The distance in between them was amplified by the emptiness of the abandoned table, vacant seats, plates, goblets and leftover food still bearing witness of a merry gathering. The lively voices and joyful songs had allowed her to hide amongst the crowd. But not any more; she felt even smaller and more insignificant now that she was facing the king alone again. She barely even dared to look his way, for his gaze made her heart flutter in the strangest of ways. The effect he had on her was beginning to scare her. He poured himself more wine and placed the goblet in front of him, reclining in his seat with his hands elegantly draped on the armrests. And then he looked at her. For the first time in all the evening his eyes took notice of her presence beyond her just being part of his group of guests. It was impossible to tell if his face showed approval or dislike behind the self-assured arrogance of his.

She could not stand it any longer, this silence, it made her restless and antsy. If she could only pluck up the courage and tell him how she really felt. She had so many questions that needed answering. In her despair she decided to stir a less risky course, trying her luck at small talk: "Well, this was an impressive banquet I have to say."

Was that really the best she could come up with? She almost forgot that her talent at small talk was near abysmal and now there was no hole in the ground deep enough for her to disappear into it.

"So, you have attended a good many of these banquets then?" The sneer on his face was just all too obvious. He was going to take her down in a matter of minutes, deliberately and with sardonic delight.

Anna lowered her gaze and found the prospect of having a wordless stare-off with her empty plate all of a sudden quite appealing. "Well, not really to be honest, I just thought —," she mumbled. Her conversational skills were no match for the kings'.

He leaned forward pushing the goblet aside and pointed one finger at Anna, his rings glittering iridescently in the candlelight.

"Then, unless you wish to enter into a conversation about food and the benefits of good wine, I suggest that you do not waste my time with insignificant tattle."

This was antagonising, he obviously enjoyed putting her on the spot, very well aware of her precarious situation. She fell silent, her fingers tracing the floral pattern on the plate in front of her.

"We have more important matters to attend to." He folded his hands, his voice condescending as if he was lecturing an unreasonable child. "As I have explained to you before, I am willing to offer you my help should you wish to return to your world." He nodded benevolently. "I gave you time to think. So I am asking you now: have you made your decision?"

Anna had anxiously awaited this moment with both hope and fear. Thranduil demanded an answer and she had none to give. A part of her was terrified and frightened by her present situation and wished nothing more than to find out who she really was and recover her lost life. But something had happened back there in the forest. His gaze of ice had kindled a flame inside her, fuelled by the sweet elven wine and the warmth of his body so close to hers. There was nothing that she wanted more right now; go back to that intimate moment. A feeling was growing inside her heart, a tender sapling still, but its delicate bud nonetheless vigorously pushing towards the surface. Was it possible that Thranduil had read her heart before she would even admit it to herself?

"I am waiting." A shadow of impatience flickered over his face when she finally looked up to him.

But then she felt again the sting of jealousy, flaring hot inside her like venom. Of course he must wish for her to go back, it was quite clear that he wanted her out of his way again. She meant nothing to him after all. How could she have expected anything different? She was just a lost human who happened to end up in his kingdom, a brief distraction from his kingly duties, nothing more. She was sad, angry and confused, an explosive mixture that would soon be blowing up right in Thranduil's face.

"You want my answer? All right then." She sat up straight and pushed her chin forward, emboldened by the wine and determined not to let herself be intimidated this time. "Here is what I have to say. The answer to your question is: There is none. How am I supposed to make a decision about going back if I do not even know what it is that I am going back to? You brought me here to your palace, as your guest, or should I say prisoner? What am I to make of that? Is there maybe something that you want from me that you are not saying?"

Thranduil stayed silent, but Anna was talking herself into a rage, her hands clenched under the table, the wine clearly loosening her tongue beyond what she usually would consider being polite and reasonable. "It is very easy for you to feel superior. You know who you are, the king and no less, and you know exactly where you belong. You have your, your big kingdom, a fancy palace and, yes indeed, a giant elk! How impressive!" Her voice echoed across the empty hall much louder than she had anticipated. But this was her moment and she would not back down now. "But I am no one. I don't know where I come from and what my name is. I don't know where I belong and I have nowhere to go. So tell me, Lord Thranduil, how am I supposed to give you an answer without even having a real choice?"

He stared at her with an indignant glare, anger seething under his composed self. "How do you dare talk to me like that!" The corners of his mouth twitched dangerously as he went on. "Consider yourself fortunate that I have been lenient with you, but you are stretching my patience. I was merely offering you my help and you pay me with ingratitude?"

She said nothing, her lips a thin line and a defiant gleam in her eyes, so he kept on going, his voice harsh. "What does this silence of yours mean? Do you wish be thrown into my dungeon? I guarantee you this could be arranged." He threw her an infuriated glance as he leaned back, his fingers drumming delicately against the armrest.

Anna stubbornly crossed her arms, her spirit of contradiction making a renewed appearance: "Yes, well maybe you should have done that instead of taking me to your chambers and make me think that—that you were interested in me," she said, the inappropriate sauciness of her words completely lost on her. The drumming of her heart was drowning out every clear thought and the hall was beginning to swim in front of her eyes. Clearly this Dorwinion was affecting her in a way that made her act in the most foolish way possible.

He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head sideways. "Did I give you that impression?"

"Yes," she slurred, her vision blurring with every passing minute, the plates and goblets doubling before her eyes. "And I'm not quite sure your wife would approve of that!"

She didn't know how she even dared to say such a thing, she had to be out of her mind.

It took Thranduil a moment to digest what she had just said to him, when his face darkened, the crease on his forehead deepening and anger boiling slowly inside him. Anna sank back in her seat, her heart pounding like mad. But he did not even look at her when he pointed towards the door.

"Leave!" his voice a sheet of frost. "Go. Now!"

She hesitated on her seat, desperately searching in her head for something to say, but there was no excuse for her behaviour, she knew it herself. Thranduil did not move, nor did he look at her.

It was time for her to go.

Anna rose from her seat and headed for the door, holding on to the wall to steady herself and leaving Thranduil behind, a lonely figure in his vast hall.

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _elleth_ \- female elf

 _adaneth_ \- mortal woman

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_ Thank you for reading and if you have enjoyed this chapter please leave a review :).

Stay tuned for Chapter 4 ^^!


	5. An Unexpected Ally

Thank you to all who reviewed chapter 3: thrndlwood, Raider-K, AutumnSparkle, The Enchanted Stream, the Catbird Seat and a Guest!

* * *

 _Chapter 4 - An Unexpected Ally_

The next morning greeted Anna with the worst possible of hangovers, physically and emotionally. She lay awake in her bed, the disastrous outcome of last night's banquet coming back vividly to her mind. She did not know when she had fallen asleep and how she had gotten to this room. She could not even tell for sure that it was in the morning, since this room lay deep underground and chandeliers were illuminating her chamber with a dim amber glow. She looked up to the ceiling, which spanned above her like a vaulted cave and fanned out into various pillars, carved out of the stone to resemble trees, with vines coiling decoratively around their rocky stems.

Anna groaned and sank back into the pillows, images of yesterday's insane happenings flashing bright like daylight in front of her inner eye. She was too embarrassed to even think about it and buried herself under the sheets, hoping that she would just wake up somewhere else far from here, where she had not yet made an idiot out of herself.

But then it slowly dawned on her and she remembered that she was already somewhere else, it was only yesterday that some inexplicable twist of fate had brought her here, into this forest and the hands of its king, Thranduil.

And she was stuck. Now that she had angered the king she had shut possibly the only way back. And if not the king, who else could help her then? Or maybe he wanted nothing more than to get rid of her as quickly as possible? What if he just dumped her in the middle of the forest? Either way, it was a hopeless situation.

A determined knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She was not even dressed, no way she would open that door. "Go away," she mumbled and pulled the sheets further up her head. But whoever it was, was insistent and the knocking wouldn't stop. Frustrated, she sat up, tossing around and untangling her legs from the sheets. She called "What is it?!" a little too rude while massaging her temples with her fingertips in an effort to relieve the stinging pressure on her forehead. A female voice answered. "Please, my lady, allow me to come in."

She had almost forgotten that Brethilwen had promised her to show her the palace this morning. Oh well, at least it was not the king coming to see her, she would not have been able to look him in the eyes, not after what she had said to him last night.

"Come in," she said in the most stoical attitude she could muster.

The door was pushed open by a red-haired elf, lean and energetic in her appearance, her eyes keen and observant. She wore a moss green dress, tall brown leather boots and a dagger on either side of her waist. One look was enough to reveal that she was a fighter not a servant. She greeted Anna with a brief inclination of the head and addressed her curtly.

"Good morning my lady, the king sends for you. When you are ready, would you please follow me?"

Anna pulled her sheets tighter around her body, stammering. "I—I think I am not really ready. I am not dressed and I was not expecting," she searched for the right words, "I was expecting someone else." She smiled wryly at her, hoping not to have sounded impolite.

"Ah, yes I know. Let me introduce myself to you: my name is Tauriel, and I am head of the king's guard. Brethilwen will see you later." She pointed at the opposite side of the room. "You will find fresh clothing at your disposal as well as food and drink."

Anna's eyes followed her motions and she realised that a small round table had been filled with fruits, bread, a small carafe and a glass, while on the wooden chair beside it clothes had been laid out for her.

When Tauriel saw the hesitation on her face she proposed: "I will wait for you outside. But please do make sure to take as little time as possible. The king does not appreciate to be kept waiting."

"But why would the king want to see me again now? Last night wasn't, well it didn't exactly go as planned."

She did not want to reveal too much, although to the best of her knowledge, Tauriel might as well have been already informed about yesterday's banquet.

"This I do not know. But it is not up to you to question his authority."

She had been hearing that an awful lot since yesterday, probably everyone here considered her some sort of rebellious spirit. But she was alone and she needed help, either from the king or from Brethilwen or maybe she could even try to recruit the talkative brothers from last night, Faeldir and Amardir, if she only knew where to find them?

"Well, will you prepare yourself then?" Tauriel interrupted her train of thoughts, pointing at the table and the clothes. Anna resigned herself to her fate, at least for the moment, and tried to be as cooperative as possible.

"Yes, I will. I will try to be quick, but these clothes are still a bit of a challenge for me, I am not used to these dresses."

"Would you like me to help you?" Tauriel stepped closer, ready to pick up the dress from the chair.

"No, no," Anna was quick to answer, "I'll be fine. Just give me a moment." Brethilwen had helped her bathe and dress yesterday, but she felt quite a bit intimidated by the presence of this warrior elf, so she would rather try on her own.

"Very well then. I shall wait outside for you."

What seemed like endless minutes of tying laces and working through countless clasps, she was finally dressed, a grey tunic with a black leather bodice that fitted her quite well, she had to admit. Her hair though was still a mess, but she only had time to brush through it quickly before grabbing a bite of the crisp bread and one of the shiny red apples. Halfway through the food she realised that she was not really hungry, her stomach resembling more of a nervous pit, and she only gulped down half a glass of the fresh water, before facing the door and what lay beyond it.

* * *

Tauriel strode swiftly along the labyrinthine hallways and Anna had a hard time keeping up with her pace. Tauriel led her into a portion of the palace she had not seen yesterday. Anna assumed that her room possibly lied in the vicinity of Thranduil's chambers, because the surrounding looked vaguely familiar, but now she was heading up steep stairways and across serpentine bridges into a vast hall, wider and more ample than the banquet's hall. If she wouldn't have been so preoccupied about her upcoming confrontation with the king — she was sure that that's what she was heading to —, she could have just stood there in amazement and marvelled at the beauty of this place.

"Don't fall behind," Tauriel urged her on, well aware that the king would get more annoyed by the minute.

"I'm sorry," she apologised and sped up behind her, climbing the final stairs that opened up into a circular platform enclosed by tall pillars along the sides. At the opposite end a steep spiral stairway led up to a carved throne crowned by giant antlers on either side. She knew those antlers, they suspiciously resembled the ones of Thranduil's elk, but of course she assumed that, well, they possibly belonged to a different specimen.

Thranduil knew how to make a statement. He could not have found a better way to exhibit his superiority than looking down on her from the lofty heights of his impressive throne. Anna lingered behind Tauriel, feeling small and insignificant, hoping to get this behind her as fast and unharmed as possible. Tauriel addressed Thranduil in a clear and calm voice: "My Lord, I bring your guest, just like you ordered."

He gave her a small nod. "Thank you Tauriel." His eyes darted towards the stairs behind Anna. Something seemed to disturb him. "But where is Legolas? Why did he not come with you?"

Tauriel hesitated for a moment. "I do not know my lord," she apologised.

A crease appeared on Thranduil's forehead and he sighed. "Very well then, I shall begin without him." Tauriel turned to leave when Thranduil called after her: "I want you to look for my son. And do not come back without him."

"Yes, my lord." She bowed, throwing Anna a quizzical glance and then headed towards the stairs, leaving her alone with king.

As Tauriel's steps faded away the silence in Thranduil's hall grew more onerous and Anna wished that she had not eaten any of the food at all as she felt increasingly nauseous. She kept staring at the stone tiled floor in front of her, finding the patterns quite nice and intriguing. But she had to focus now. She promised herself that there would be no unexpected outbursts from her side this time. She would answer his questions, if he had any, as precise and clear as possible and if he happened to still be willing to help her, she would simply accept it. After yesterday evening he could not possibly have any more interest in keeping her here.

"I hope you have settled in your room and everything is to your satisfaction." His deep melodic voice trailing through the hall threatened to shatter all her resolutions.

"Yes, my lord, it is," she replied as calm as possible, her eyes still fixed on the floor.

"Good." A moment of silence followed. "Because you will be staying here."

"What?! I mean, … I thought," she stuttered. No, no, not again, she was straying from her laid out path of being calm, collected and as unemotional as possible. She finally looked up to him, but Thranduil's attention was caught by swift footsteps approaching behind her. They belonged to Legolas, whose shock of blonde hair was the first thing she saw as he ascended the stairs. He was dressed in a green tunic and brown breeches and boots, a bow and arrows slung around his back, his hair in braids, just like yesterday. He greeted his father with a courteous nod, addressing Anna casually with a friendly smile.

"Adar, you called for me?"

Anna smiled back, unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Yes, indeed, I did. What kept you so long?" Thranduil rose from his throne and descended the stairs, his robe slithering behind him like smooth waves of gold and green. Legolas approached his father with swift strides.

"Something about the prisoners required my attention." Prisoners? Anna was immediately alarmed and the pit in her stomach deepened considerably. "And Tauriel is concerned about the spiders in the forest. They are growing stronger and bolder. She thinks that we need to increase our forces against them."

Spiders?! This was getting better by the minute. Why couldn't she have told Thranduil yesterday that she wanted to get back and leave this place for good?

"And what do you think about it, my son?" Thranduil was now standing beside Legolas, whose youthful appearance was in stark contrast to his father's proud bearing. Despite the king's ageless beauty and flawless posture his shoulders seemed burdened with an endless lifetime of responsibilities and duties. For a moment a shadow of weariness darkened Thranduil's face as if the strain was taking a toll on him. Compassion stirred inside Anna, her heart felt drawn towards him, notwithstanding spiders and prisoners. Legolas looked up to his father, who towered over him — as a matter of fact Thranduil was taller than every other person she had seen in the palace—, his expression indecisive.

"I think that we should heed Tauriel's opinion, as she has fought bravely in the forest." He seemed to ponder as how to go on. "And I do agree that we need to be watchful and more assertive if we want to keep the darkness at bay."

"So you think I am being too negligent?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow and observed his son from the corner of his eye.

"No, of course not. That is not what I meant father." Legolas peered in Anna's direction and threw his father a questioning look. "Should we be discussing theses matters here? I mean, your guest. Surely she does not need to be bothered with these matters and we could speak about this later." He gave her an apologetic look before turning back to his father.

"No, now is the time. And she can and will hear about this, because she will be staying." Thranduil turned briefly towards her, a challenging look in his eyes, before resuming his conversation with Legolas, who seemed slightly thrown off course by this revelation.

"Oh, well, I did not know that. My apologies, father." He did not look quite convinced though by his father's decision and Anna started feeling increasingly uncomfortable, being the subject of this discussion without obviously having a say in her own matters.

"You could not have known this, because I have only revealed this just prior to your arrival. But let us get back to my question. The safety and wellbeing of our kingdom is what concerns both of us and in extension everyone under my command." He looked at his son benevolently who took this as an encouragement to speak his mind.

"Well, father, I think that we must not underestimate the danger that is slowly creeping into our realm and I fear that more dark things will come forth if we do not set bounds and enforce them." This time there was firmness in his voice, he was truly his father's son in every way.

Thranduil took a moment to ponder and then nodded. "Very well. We shall increase our vigilance, but I am not willing to engage myself in matters that lie beyond our borders." He made it clear that this was the end of discussion and Legolas nodded his approval.

"Now, the reason why I called you here is because I want you to be in charge of my guest. I have many obligations keeping me busy and I need to be sure that her safety is in capable hands."

Anna's eyes widened and darted from Thranduil to Legolas in an incredulous stare. She wanted to mouth a protest and raised her hand shyly, but thought better of it. As of now, her indiscretion had only brought her trouble, so she might as well stay out of it for a change.

"But father," Legolas frowned, clearly caught off-guard by his fathers orders. "I do not think that I am the right person for this, this assignment."

Thranduil gave him a stern look. "There will be no arguing about this." Legolas nodded silently, knowing very well that his father would brook no dissent.

Thranduil then turned towards Anna, his expression polite, but terse. "Legolas will take you now back to your room and in all matters of your stay you will turn to him and he will report to me. Brethilwen will be your personal servant if you should be needing anything." He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her response.

"I don't think I need …," she began, but the look of annoyance dawning on Thranduil's face made her steer a different course. Maybe for once she should be more cautious and simply obey, instead of manoeuvring herself into another problematic situation.

"Yes, yes, very well. Whatever you say my lord." She gave him a resigned smile, her eyes now drawn to Legolas who walked over to her.

"Shall we go then?" he asked.

"Yes, fine," she agreed, ready to leave.

Thranduil addressed Legolas once more before dismissing them both with a wave of his hand. "I will need you back here later, but in the meantime I will be having another parley with the leader of this annoying dwarven company."

"Yes, father." Legolas nodded and then turned to leave with Anna.

* * *

They walked quietly side by side at first, but once they had turned into the meandering hallways leading back to the king's chambers and her room, Legolas broke the silence.

"My father can be quite adamant, you know. But do not be alarmed by that. I am sure, he means you only well." He was surprisingly nonchalant about his father, but it did not really convince her. "Well, maybe. But that does not change the fact that he is intimidating. And, well his presence makes me feel …," she was searching for the right words, "tense and exposed."

She didn't know why she confided these feelings in him, after all he was the king's son and she was sure that he would report back to him, but she felt so dejected that she didn't care. Or maybe she even secretly hoped that he would let Thranduil know how she felt. Legolas threw her a sideways glance, his blue eyes as bright as his father's but with a gentleness in them that she had not seen in Thranduil.

"Well, after all he is the king and it takes a great deal of discipline and self-assertion to rule a kingdom," he pointed out.

"Yes, I know, but he can be nice and still be a king, like a nice king, if you know what I mean," she countered.

A small grin flickered across his face. "Well, I see, you still have a lot to learn about kings."

She chuckled, surprised at her own cheekiness. "Apparently yes."

Anna sunk back into her thoughts and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

When they arrived at the door to her room she decided to take her chances and ask him for a favour. "Will you help me? I mean, teach me about kings? I don't know what your father has told you about me, but I am not really a traveller. I got lost and he found me in the forest." She paused, waiting for his reaction, but he was only listening intently, curiosity in his eyes, so she took that as a sign to go ahead. "If I am bound to stay, I will need to learn things; a lot of things."

Legolas was silent, his eyes assessing her, making sure that she was being sincere, but then he finally spoke: "Yes, I will help you. I promised my father that I would look after you, so it is part of my duty to help you in any way I can."

A thankful smile spread across her face. "I am very grateful for your help. I am a stranger here and I do not know what else fate has in store for me." She sighed, her thoughts trailing back to Thranduil and the obscure concoction of feelings he stirred up inside her with as much as an incidental glance of his eyes.

"You will be fine," Legolas reassured her. "If you wish for me to stay, I will. Otherwise I will go now and give you some time to rest, if that is what you need." Anna was all of a sudden sorely conscious of her appearance, her hair far away from elvish perfection and her face still possibly showing the remnants of sleep-deprivation. "Well, yes, I guess I do prefer to rest for a while and I remember also that Brethilwen was going to come and show me around in the palace."

Legolas reached for the door knob and pushed the door open for her. "Very well, it sounds that you already have a busy day ahead. I shall then send her to you at midday and I will see you later."

"Thank you for your kindness." She looked at him and couldn't help but wonder about his mother. She must be a very special person indeed.

"You are welcome." He bowed briefly and turned to leave.

The door snapped shut behind her and she leaned against it with a deep sigh.

This morning had raised more questions than it had answered. Why would Thranduil want to keep her here? Was he really concerned about her safety or was he merely making sure that she would not try to escape? And why would that even matter to him? And still the most intriguing question of them all: the queen, who was she and why was she not here? Would Anna ever learn the truth about her and would she be able to amend her mistake and apologise to Thranduil?

She collapsed into bed, her head spinning with all this talk about prisoners, dwarves and spiders and more alarming, some mysterious darkness that seemed to frighten everyone.

Apparently the Woodland Realm had trapped her in its webs for good and would not allow Anna to disentangle herself any time soon.

To be continued…

* * *

 _Author's Notes: If you have enjoyed this chapter, please leave a review! Thank you very much guys :)!_

 _Stay tuned for chapter 5^^!_


	6. Regulations and Revelations

Thank you to all who have reviewed Ch 4: Raider-K, the Catbird Seat, The Enchanted Stream, Charming Ever After, The Wise Dragoness and Autumn Sparkle! You're the best :)!

* * *

 _Chapter 5 - Regulations and Revelations_

Days stretched into weeks and late summer turned into autumn when something like normality in within the absurdity of Anna's situation was beginning to settle in. A myriad of new impressions had descended upon her, forcing her to keep her head in the present and giving her mind less chances to stray back to the mystery of her arrival in Thranduil's forest. Eventually she decided to assign it a small locked up area in the back of her head. Maybe when the moment was right, she would bring it out and dare to ask someone she could trust about it, but for now she would simply try to focus on her daily life in the palace.

Brethilwen had kept her promise and shown her around more than once, through the twisting and echoing paths, the living quarters, ample halls for celebrations, even to the kitchens and down to the wine cellar she led her. It seemed that she had taken a liking to Anna and she proved to be a useful guide in many matters concerning the most basic things she needed to know for the time of her stay, to which as of now no limit had been put. Anna had wandered the hallways of the king's palace with Brethilwen numerous times, while Brethilwen would keep her entertained with stories of the older ages and tales of the times when the forest was young and was still called _Eryn_ _Galen_ , Greenwood the Great, before the darkness had found its way into the realm of the Elves and the woods were thereafter named _Taur e-Ndaedelos,_ or Mirkwood. Anna turned out to be an avid listener and was eager for more, so one day with an auspicious smile on her face Brethilwen took her to a special place. An area that was usually off limits for everyone but select elves: the royal library.

She could not have found a more valuable treasure chamber! Among the countless volumes of thick leather-bound books and ancient scrolls it offered her answers to so many questions she had. At first Brethilwen had accompanied her the her visits to the library, but as they gradually extended, she eventually allowed her to go on her own. Anna knew her way through the palace, and maybe, well Brethilwen had better things to do than to watch a strange human being bent over books for hours on end.

At first her biggest obstacle was the language barrier. She had gotten used to the soft spoken Sindarin, actually she really enjoyed the pleasant sound of it, but still she only understood simple words or phrases and everyone tended to switch to Westron as soon as she was involved. After all, she was not one of them. When she found herself presented with the possibility of actually uncovering the secrets of this foreign but beautiful language she dived head in. She also spent countless hours working herself through annals and chronicles, together with collections about herb-lore and essays on Dorwinion wine until her head was spinning with tales about dragons, orcs, dwarves and countless other more or less bizarre creatures and her eyes wouldn't focus any more. Still, one thing she could not find amongst all the books was a single mention of the queen. It proved to be an ever elusive subject. She did read though about a fateful battle where Thranduil had fought alongside his father King Oropher, witnessing his father's tragic death and making Thranduil himself the next king of the Wood-Elves. It was the Battle of _Dagorlad_ , a fight where Elves and Men had joined their forces in the War of the Last Alliance against an ever recurring foe named Sauron. And she concluded that the impending doom of the darkness that everyone feared must be somehow connected to him.

As she wandered deeper into the library her curiosity was stirred by a barred area, obviously only accessible to the king alone. Countless times she lingered around the tall shelves, tightly packed with books of different sizes and shapes, trying to catch a glimpse of what was in there, hungry for more answers and revelations, but whatever it was that lay hidden, she was sure that it was somehow protected by magic, an invisible barrier to keep away prying eyes.

* * *

Magic was indeed an essential part of elvish life and although it made her feel uneasy at times, she had learned to accept the fact that there were many things in this realm that lay beyond her human abilities. Concerning her life in the halls of the king she seemed to be the curiosity of everyone at first, but as time elapsed and Anna apparently did not turn out to possess any extraordinary talents nor could boast to tell tales of far away lands and people, the factor of her being new and intriguing was wearing off eventually. One thing though that made her still feel strange and alien was that as she could not remember her name, people just referred to her as human, _adaneth_ , the traveller or guest, or simply called her my lady. But even that she had learned to accept, although deep inside her heart she wished nothing more than to finally belong somewhere and it felt like having a name was an integral part of that. Especially since she had learned that the elves took pride in having names both beautiful and meaningful. But maybe one day it would get to that. She would not allow herself to lose hope, because without hope there was nothing left at all.

The two brothers from the banquet, Faeldir and Amardir, often came to the rescue when she was feeling downcast. Their company proved to be highly diverting and their competing for her attention quite amusing. After all, not many humans would be seen in these lands and it seemed to her that they were just as glad for a bit of distraction, even though possibly for different reasons. They finally had found someone whom they could impress with their talk and who had not heard their stories a thousand times over already. She spent many lovely afternoons listening to their tales or hearing them sing, which was one of her favourite entertainments in the confined space of the Elvenking's halls. The floating harmonies took her right back to her first day in the forest and her mind drifted unwillingly back to Thranduil, his blue eyes and the way he had looked right into her heart, allowing her a glimpse into a paradise from which she had been expelled before even having been admitted. And the joy she had felt turned to anguish. She had to force herself not to dwell on those painful thoughts any more. She would not allow her mind to be taken prisoner by these unfulfilled wishes of hers. Who was she trying to fool anyway? After all what she had read in the library about unions in between humans and elves they were deemed inappropriate, and if they did happen, they were extremely rare and most likely to end in some sort of tragedy.

Thranduil had ensured that Anna would not be wandering around alone at will. She had been granted some liberties, yes, but she remained under surveillance for most of her time, except for those hours in the library and after she retired to her room at night. She was not allowed to leave the palace, at least never on her own. The king's son Legolas made sure of that, he was polite but assertive, following his father's orders closely. He had once in a while ventured into the forest with her, although never too far from the palace, possibly at the king's command, and patiently answered all the inquisitive questions she had about the trees and beasts inhabiting the woods. Even when it got to the spiders, something that had been lurking in the back of her mind since she first heard him talking about them to his father, he tried to satisfy her curiosity. But to be honest, the fact that apparently they were of an enormous size, growing bolder and infesting more and more parts of the forest, was more than enough information for her. The dark power spreading from the south-east into the realm of Thranduil also cast a shadow on his son's spirit, who was for most of the time cheerful and glad to be of service. The one thing that was still prying her mind she had not dared to ask him yet. Although she was constantly reminded of her existence when she looked at him, she had not found the courage to inquire about his mother. He never mentioned anything and she felt that she had no right to get into his personal matters.

To her disappointment she had not seen much of the king lately as he had been kept busy with those prisoners of his, the dwarves. In her wanderings with Brethilwen she had passed their cells and cast a curious glance at the dwarves, stout and bearded fellows, who seemed to be in a constant grumpy state of mind. She couldn't blame them though, if she had been locked in those cells she hardly would have been prone to joyous outbursts either. Still it had not been revealed to her why they were kept in the king's dungeons, except that they had been caught trespassing through his territory. She counted herself lucky not to have met the same fate and actually avoided lingering too close to their cells. Not that they ever spoke to her, but she did not want to run into trouble by being considered fraternising with the enemy. The elves were ever watchful and she could not shake off the feeling that some of them remained distrustful of strangers, which included her after all.

Besides the dwarves she seemed to be the only other non-elvish person in the whole palace, although she could not cast off the feeling that once in a while she saw, or to be more precise, she felt a small shadow moving around the cavernous halls. She could have sworn that she even once almost bumped into it, but since she did not see anyone she concluded that this must be another one of those elvish magical devices. Who knows, maybe they could turn invisible at will? Anna had to admit that this thought made her considerably uneasy. Being followed and observed all day long was tiresome enough, but being tracked by an invisible shadow was more than unsettling.

Until one day the shadow stepped into the light, albeit unwillingly.

* * *

Anna was on her way back to her room from another long session in the library and all caught up in her thoughts when she passed an empty hallway near the area of the kitchens and suddenly bumped into something solid. She stumbled, and almost fell if she hadn't reached out for the shelf beside her, sending some of the stacked plates crashing to the floor with a loud clang.

"Who's there?" she shouted, scrambling to her feet, still looking for a hold. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologised quickly, although she did not know to whom.

"Do you mind?" retorted a bodiless voice, mumbling in an inarticulate way like someone who was speaking with their mouth full. She pressed herself against the wall, eyeing the corridor suspiciously, when a child-sized figure emerged from beside one of the shelves containing assorted food supplies. To her amazement it was not a child at all, but a plump middle-aged man with bare feet covered in bushy hair, somewhat unkempt brown locks framing his round face that seemed to be generally good natured but looked now thoroughly annoyed at having been interrupted in the search for food. Curiously enough she noticed his pointed ears, but he could not possibly be one of the elves, he was too short and not nearly elegantly enough dressed. As a matter of fact, his clothes looked seriously worn and somewhat grimy.

"When you are done staring at me, would you please resume minding your own business?"

Anna closed her mouth that had fallen open as she stared at him, suddenly aware of her impolite attitude. "I am sorry. I did not see you there."

"Mmhh. Yes, yes. That happens sometimes." He shifted around uncomfortably. "Well, I do accept your apology. If you will excuse me, my dear." He turned to leave while he stuffed some buns of bread into his deep pockets.

She went out on a limb when she decided to throw the question at him directly. "Are you also a traveller from another world?"

"What? No!" He looked baffled. "Well, that is, unless you would call the Shire another world."

"The Shire?"

"Yes, yes the Shire," he repeated slightly annoyed. "That is where I come from. My name is Bilbo Baggins and I am a hobbit if you must know."

"A hobbit?" There wasn't anything about hobbits in the library, she was quite sure about that. Her levels of confusion and amazement were highly competing with each other, not exactly helping her in sounding like a sane person at all.

But apparently Mr. Baggins the hobbit took pity on her and settled into a brief explanation to help her out of her misery.

"I see that you are indeed not from here and quite surely not an Elf. We Hobbits are little people, and we live in the Shire, which is quite far from here, a very nice place indeed, hidden from humans and most other disturbances and we keep generally to ourselves. You should come and pay it a visit some time. Well, anyhow, I myself am here only passing through, but since my friends, the dwarves, got caught and imprisoned, I have to linger around until I can find a way out." He eyed her suspiciously. "Who are you by the way? You are not one of the elves, but you are dressed like one of them, so what is that all about?"

Funny how their minds both worked alike, assessing each other's appearance. Both trapped in the halls of the Elvenking they were both equally far away from being one of them. "And they seem to be watching you quite closely, if I may say so. I have been observing that for a while, you know."

"You have?" Her eyes widened and it dawned on her that she had finally found her fleeting shadow. "So you were the one that I have been seeing around? Well, not actually seeing, but I had the feeling that I was being watched, apart from the elves."

"Yes, that might have been me," he admitted bluntly. "But you still haven't given me your name. Haven't they taught you any manners where you come from?" He frowned at her, while scanning the shelf beside him for some more edible morsels to scavenge.

Anna was caught unprepared, since lately no one had been questioning her origin any more, and stuttered. "Well, … I. I am a human as you can see and in a way I am a traveller as I said, but I come from a world far away." She simply decided to go for something close to the truth, since this little man did not look too intimidating after all. "And to be honest I do not remember my name. I know it sounds strange, but that is the truth. The elves simply call me _adaneth_ for most of the time. I have been staying here at the king's palace for some weeks. As a matter of fact, I think I have come here around the same time your friends were caught." She was silent for a moment as he busily wrapped some cheese in a piece of cloth and allowed it to disappear in his apparently bottomless pockets.

He threw her a quizzical look. "Well, that is a curious thing. A nameless lady? In the halls of the Elvenking? Very interesting indeed." He nodded and seemed to be muttering more to himself than actually talking to her. "Well, I should not be too surprised after all the strange things that I have encountered on my journey so far."

Sympathy stirred in her heart when she saw how desperate this little man in his ragged clothes was looking for something to eat. Who knew which hardships he had gone through already? "Would you like to come with me? I have food in my room," she offered him. "And I could always ask for more."

He looked at her with something in between surprise and gratitude, but then his pride prevailed. "Thank you my dear, but I will have to decline your well-meaning offer. I can quite manage by myself. And I would not want you to get into trouble on my account." He crinkled his nose and straightened himself, attempting to convey an image of honourableness and self-reliance.

"All right then. But just so you know that the offer stands if you ever should feel the need." She gave him a smile and then a thought passed her mind. "But however did you manage to get past the elves?"

Bilbo shuffled his feet nervously, looking around and making sure the hallway remained empty. "That, if I may say so, my lady, is my very own secret. And I do not wish to share it." He bowed apologetically and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I sure hope you understand. You know: my predicament. I am not really supposed to be here. The elves have not found out that I slipped past them. So I am the only hope that my friends have of ever escaping from the king's dungeons and pursuing their quest." He seemed quite proud of his obvious importance and raised himself to his full height.

She glanced at him in surprise. "A quest? What quest?"

Bilbo's mood changed instantly and he would not reveal anything else. "I have been already saying too much. If you will excuse me. It was very nice meeting you." He bowed curtly and dismissed himself, snatching another small piece of pastry from the shelf and leaving her standing alone in the hallway as he scuttled off into the darkness.

Anna had only just turned around the next corner, her mind still digesting all the strange revelations she had heard, when another voice called out to her from behind. Her heart sank when it was not the one she had been hoping for. But of course why on earth would Thranduil be looking for her in his own palace when he could just have her summoned to his chambers? She began to think that the king was actively avoiding her and sadness pooled inside her chest. Seeing him walk around in his vast halls or riding out on his numerous hunting activities, but still never being able to get close to him was like torture, stabbing her every day all over again in her aching heart. She longed for nothing more than to be with him, and he seemed to have altogether forgotten about her existence. Yes, he was the king and he had his duties to attend to, but after all, he had ordered for her to stay, and what was the use of that, if he did not want her close to him?

The clear voice of Legolas broke through her glum thoughts of self-pity. " _Adaneth_ , my dear, please wait up. I bring word from my father." Anna stopped in her tracks and turned around, trying to convey an aura of indifference. But her heart told another story, anxiously awaiting the news Legolas would bring.

To be continued …

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Thank you for reading and I hope you are looking forward to the news Legolas will bring! Please leave a review if you have enjoyed this chapter!_

 _Stay tuned for chapter 6^^_


	7. Memories of the Past

_Thank you to all of those who have reviewed Ch 5: thrndlwood, Annabelle Black, Lydwina Marie, Raider-K, Charming Ever After, The Enchanted Stream! I really appreciate it! :D_

* * *

 _Chapter 6 - Memories of the Past_

Legolas caught up with her quickly and greeted her with one of his open smiles. He seemed to have come from outside, as he had his bow slung around his back and his quiver sported considerably less arrows than the usual. "You seem worried. Is everything all right?" Concern was in his voice as he noticed that Anna was slightly flustered.

"Yes, yes, everything is fine," she retorted a bit more rash than she had intended. But neither did she want to reveal anything about her encounter with the hobbit nor did she want to give Legolas the impression that she was too eager to hear news from Thranduil. "I was just on my way to the room." She gave him an awkward smile and added quickly "The long session in the library has tired me a little and I was lost in thoughts; that's all." She straightened herself, pulling back a stray lock behind her ear, and looked at him expectantly. "But do tell me what news do you bring from your father."

"Well, it is precisely about the library." Anna's face turned pale, afraid that she had upset the king by her frequent and extended visits. Maybe he did not want her nosing around after all. "Is it a problem?" she inquired, trying to keep her voice calm. "If the king does not want me to go there, I will stop."

"No, no, do not worry. My father approves of your visits. As a matter of fact he wishes to meet with you there." Legolas smiled at the look of relief dawning on her face and added "Tonight, if that is convenient for you."

"Oh yes, yes of course it is convenient." Gone was her resolution to appear indifferent, she could not conceal her obvious delight that Thranduil was finally reaching out to her again. She did not know what evoked this change of heart, but the fact that she would be in the same room with him after such a long time was anticipation enough for her.

"Very well then. I will inform my father." Legolas was quite pleased and walked her back to her room, all the time happily chatting away about today's hunt and it seemed to her that some sort of tension had been lifted from him.

Anna took dinner in her room like most of the days, although once in a while she would be invited to join the elves in one of the halls. She didn't mind to eat alone tough, since she still did not feel altogether at ease in the company of the elves. It was a slow process to blend in, after all she had thousands of years to catch up, she thought to herself slightly amused.

* * *

A soft knock at the door announced that it was time to go. It was Brethilwen who came to accompany her to the library. Brethilwen had gotten to know Anna quite well throughout the last weeks and it was no use trying to hide her emotional turmoils. Although Anna knew her way to the library, she was glad that Brethilwen insisted on walking with her. It gave her a feeling of support when she didn't know what to expect from her meeting with the king tonight. Before she would enter the library her grey eyes lingered on Anna's face with reassurance. "You will be fine. The king has been waiting for this."

She did not get a chance to ask her about the exact meaning of what she just said, because the doors of the library were suddenly pulled open and Brethilwen had turned away before she could even say goodbye to her.

It took her eyes a moment to adapt to the unusual darkness in the library at this late hour of the day, but then she saw a distinct tall and lean figure emerging from the twilight beside one of the shelves that held all the dictionaries of Sindarin and Quenya that she had been studying for so many hours. Her breath hitched in her throat when she felt Thranduil's presence so close to her again. And she couldn't hold back a smile when she realised that he was wearing the same dark grey robe he wore when he found her back then in the forest. His velvet cloak of deep burgundy was draped casually around his shoulders, contrasting pleasantly with the silver blonde strands of his hair.

"I am glad you came." He greeted her with a slight inclination of his head.

His voice made her shiver. He had not spoken to her alone since the day of the banquet and although she had recreated the sound of his voice in her head countless times, it hit her right at heart when he addressed her directly in this deep and melodic baritone of his.

"I am glad you called for me," she retorted, her heart racing like a barely restrained tempest. She lingered in front of the door, unsure of how to go on. She did not want to make a wrong move or say something that would upset him again.

"Legolas tells me that you have taken to visit the library quite frequently." A fleeting smile flickered across his face, loosening the lump she felt in her throat.

"Yes, I have. It is one of my favourite places in the entire palace." What she did not tell him was why. It was the one place where she did not feel alone and she had made some sort of substitute home for herself amongst all the books that kept her company during her endless hours in the palace.

"I am glad that you have found a place that is to your liking. I am afraid that the halls of my palace do not offer much diversion." He beckoned her to come with him. "I think you will enjoy what I am about to show you."

Anna followed him quietly through the narrow aisles and soon it dawned on her where he was taking her. Excitement built up inside her when, sure enough, he stopped in front of the restricted area. "This," he turned towards her, "is a very special place and no one is allowed to enter except by my leave." She threw him a quizzical look, but he beckoned her to go ahead.

* * *

She stepped over the threshold with Thranduil beside her and was caught in a different world. Although this room was indeed filled with books on delicate shelves it was more like a low, dimly lit cave, opening up towards the back, a faint teal glimmer emerging from between the aisles. She looked around, her eyes wide in amazement at the colourful covers of books in all sizes that were stacked here, resembling children's books in their bold brightness and breathing a more lively air than the volumes kept out there, containing tales of war or discourses on scientific topics. The wooden shelves were covered in floral decor, branches and vines coiling snugly around its sides. Small alcoves along the walls offered cozy seats with cushions and low lying tables for immersing oneself in endless reading.

"Beautiful!" she murmured to herself, allowing her fingers to graze along some intricately adorned spines. She could have stared for hours at the treasures presenting themselves before her eyes if Thranduil hadn't motioned her to go on further, following the blue-green light.

"There is more. Come _."_ A satisfied smile played around his lips when he saw that her face radiated with delight.

She followed him, her eyes taken captive by every little detail along the way. The room extended much further towards the back than what she had expected and soon enough the bookshelves ended and the walls opened up into a beautiful small grotto. Anna stopped in her tracks, marvelling at the serene beauty of this secret hideaway. It was like stepping into an enchanted forest. Dark green were the curved walls, softly gleaming in the twilight and countless iridescent gems of the purest silver and white illuminated the ceiling like stars in the darkness of night. Delicate flowers with tiny blossoms in gold and silver were cascading from hanging baskets along the walls. In the middle there was a stone basin with turquoise water, its blue-green glow radiating throughout the entire cavern. Water from a spring at the far side of the grotto purled steadily into the pool and filled the room with its soothing sound. Around the basin benches were hewn into the stone, inviting the weary to a quiet retreat in a place that seemed utterly withdrawn from the rest of the world.

"May I?" she asked Thranduil for his permission, pointing at one of the benches.

"Yes, you may. Be my guest," he nodded in approval. She sat down beside the pool and allowed her fingers to glide through the water. It was refreshing, but not cold and glittered in different shades of turquoise. Her eyes were mesmerised by the rippling waves her hands created on the surface and she only stopped because she could feel Thranduil's eyes on her. There was a strange glow in them when he took a seat opposite her. He sat still like a statue, observing her quietly.

"This is wonderful. I have never seen anything like it. You should not keep this locked away, such a beautiful place!" Her cheeks were flushed in excitement, but she noticed a lingering apprehension in his gaze. "But — why did you bring me here?"

He looked at her intently, the blue of his eyes intensified by the water's turquoise glow. "I brought you here today, because I felt that our last encounter did not have the desired outcome."

She lowered her head as she was shamefully reminded of her embarrassing performance at the banquet.

"You are not to be blamed. It was only your first day in a foreign world that you have tumbled into and I should have known better. But I didn't. And I am sorry for that. Will you accept my apology?" Concern was in his eyes when she looked up to him again. She only nodded, slightly overwhelmed, her voice struggling to stay calm.

"I have been meaning to apologise to you for my undue behaviour, but you have kept me away ever since. All I could think of was how I would ever be able to amend my mistake. I know that I had no right to speak to you the way I did and to say the things I said. But I was confused and angry and —," she paused and lowered her voice to a whisper, embarrassed of her own weakness, "— jealous. When I saw that you had a son I though that, that —," She did not know how to go on and lowered her head in shame. "Please forgive me."

"I do. And we will no longer speak of it. It is forgiven."

But the look of worry did not leave his face, and his body seemed tense. His eyes lingered on the water when he raised his voice again.

"But there is more that I wanted to tell you. This place is very dear to me because it holds a special meaning. But I have not come here in a very long time, because it also reminds me of my deepest sorrow." He hesitated for a moment. "It was my wife's most beloved refuge in the entire palace." He paused, waiting for her reaction, but when she was only quietly clinging to his every word, he continued. "I had it built for her. She loved books as much as you and she used to spend countless hours here reading." He closed his eyes, trying to keep his countenance calm, emotions long locked away pushing their way towards the surface. She waited silently, allowing him the time he needed to collect himself again, his voice trembling with barely contained agitation.

"It filled my heart with gladness to see her so delighted. She was beautiful and kind and I could not have wished for a better wife and Queen. She also loved to stroll in the forest, but as the darkness slowly crept in, she kept more and more to the palace. So this repose became her most cherished hideaway." He paused for a moment as those memories came to life inside his head. "And when our son Legolas was born, we were complete. He was the light of her life and she used to bring him here too, to read stories to him, sing and play, and then this room was full of joy and innocent laughter. It was a time of happiness for us."

Anna smiled at the image of little Legolas being spoilt and loved by both his mother and father.

"But then everything changed."

Her eyes met his and they were full of grief and she knew why. "One day she ventured again into the forest, alone. And she was — taken from us. I was not there to protect her. I failed her when she needed me most." He clenched his jaw as if the words were too painful to be uttered aloud. "The orcs, those foul beasts of Mordor, they captured her and … tortured her, but she would not surrender. She had a strong will." He paused, his hands slightly trembling in his lap as he continued. "But even the strongest person can be broken." His voice was now barely a whisper. "And then they killed her…. I was too late, I could not save her."

Anna stared at the glowing turquoise surface, unable to speak as she digested all these heartrending revelations, sadness and compassion mingling in her heart.

When she looked up again, Thranduil was still sitting motionless on his bench, his face alone revealing a broken heart. She wished that she could just pull him into an embrace, but she knew that this was out of the question. So she remained on her bench, trying to find the right words, but how do you mend a heart that has been torn apart? Was there ever a chance of healing?

She chose her words carefully. "I am very sorry that the one you loved was taken from you in such a cruel way and that your happiness has been shattered. I know there is nothing that will ease the pain of your loss, but …," she was uncertain if what she was going to say was indeed the right thing. "But her memory lives on in your heart and nothing and no one is ever going to be able to take that away from you. Don't let grief overcome you and guilt poison the sweet memories you have of her."

His eyes gazed at her in a way that made her heart ache. "It is not your fault that your wife died, don't punish yourself for something that you cannot undo. And don't deny yourself the right to live." She leaned forward as she went on, wanting to lend more weight to her words. "Your wife would not have wanted that for you, I am sure. She left you the most precious gifts of all: your son. She is not with you any more, but she lives on in him. Legolas is the living proof of the love in between you and her."

He listened to her words in silence. There was more that she wanted to tell him, something that had been on her mind for a while. "And he needs you and your love. He is such a kind person, happy and cheerful for most of the time, but I see that sometimes a sorrow descends on him, when he feels you distant and indifferent towards him. He is your only son and he deserves your unconditional fatherly love." Thranduil's penetrating gaze was lingering on her and she held her breath, hoping that she had not crossed another line, dashing the newly gained trust he had placed in her. She was not really in a position to give him unasked-for advice, but after all he had opened up to her about his deepest sorrow.

Thranduil sighed, but his voice was calm when he spoke. "No one has ever talked to me like that before."

She had a quick apology ready. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to—"

He raised his hand in an appeasing gesture. "No, do not apologise. You are right. I have been blinded by my grief and hiding behind my guilt and I have not seen what was right in front of my eyes. My wife is not with me any more, but I know that she is waiting in the Halls of Mandos, and I may yet see her again." He took a deep breath before he went on. "But my son needs me as his father. A father not lost in sorrow but aware of life." He studied her face with a curiosity that made her blush. "I want to thank you for your honesty. I know now that I did right in bringing you here tonight."

Her heart was still too full to formulate a meaningful response, so a small smile was the best she could manage. She dipped her hands back into the water, watching them as they floated back and forth and following with her eyes the symmetrical waves she created. And for a while the only sounds in the grotto were the mixed harmonies of water, the steady purling from the spring interwoven with the swooshing sound of her hands stirring up the quiet surface.

* * *

Thranduil's voice rose her from her thoughts. "You seem pensive. Is there something else on your mind that you wish to tell me?" Indeed there was, but she was not sure if this was the right moment to bring up her own worries. After all they seemed insignificant compared to the agony that was in Thranduil's heart.

The affectionate way he had spoken about his wife and all the talk about memories had churned her emotions and made her again sorely aware of her own predicament. She looked up to him, his eyes lingering on her with a distinct glow of empathy in them. "You can tell me. Please do not be afraid." She was still hesitant, her eyes drawn again to the water, but he insisted. "I opened up to you about something that I have kept locked away for a long time. Do I not deserve the same from you?"

Indeed, he did. She nodded and with a deep sigh she said: "I do not have any memories at all. Nothing. It is as if I have never even existed; a person with no past and maybe no future at all." She retreated her hands from the basin, feeling them suddenly cold and numb. "I don't know if I ever loved someone or if anyone ever loved me." Despair struck her and she felt tears welling up. "Will I ever know? Will I be able to go back and find out? What will happen to me if I don't? Am I to stay here for the rest of my life, … nameless and unloved?"

She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed that he would see her cry, when suddenly she felt him take a seat beside her. His nearness was both comforting and tantalising. If only he would reach out for her hand, but he did not make any move towards her. For a while he was just silent beside her and seemed reluctant to talk.

"You are not unloved," he then said softly. She looked up to him, her eyes still unfocused with tears, but she saw in his face that he was struggling to compose himself, trying to remain calm in the face of her emotional upheaval. He reached into his robe and took out a small piece of cloth to dry her tears and then he spoke to her again. "But I fear that I cannot see what your fate will be. I have asked myself this question numerous times and found no answer."

She searched in his eyes for something else, but whatever it was, it was hidden behind his impenetrable gaze. "I am sorry that I cannot give you a more satisfying answer."

She nodded, slightly crestfallen, but she felt that this was as much as she would hear from him tonight about this, so she decided not to push it any further. He handed her his handkerchief so she could clean herself up as her crying receded into occasional sobs.

"But there is one more thing I have been meaning to ask you before we part tonight." His hand brushed hers as he motioned her to stay for another moment. It was as if electric sparks were being shot into her veins and she saw in his eyes that it had struck him too. She quickly pulled her hand away, embarrassed of her feelings being so obvious, when he addressed her with a candour in his voice that she had not heard from him before. "I know that I have ordered you to stay. And you have obeyed my command, which I appreciate. But what if I asked you to stay of your own free will, would you?"

She could barely breathe, her heart was so full that she feared it was going to burst open, her emotions rattling like a storm at the fence that she had patched together around it. But she willed herself to stay calm and when she looked into his eyes her voice was steady. "Yes, yes I would."

"Good." There was a glimmer of relief in his eyes and a satisfied smile dawning on his face. "Very good indeed."

They both remained silent in each others presence and it seemed to her that there was a fresh breath of life pervading the air, knocking timidly at her heart's door to see if she would let it in.

To be continued…

* * *

 _Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter with quite a lot of emotional stuff going on and are looking forward to more adventures of Anna in Mirkwood!_

 _As always, reviews, favs and follows are greatly appreciated!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 7^^!_


	8. A Questionable Quest

_A BIG thank you to all those nice people who have left reviews on Chapter 6: The Wise Dragoness, Lydwina Marie, thrndlwood, Golden Haired Ravenclaw, Guest, Guest, Raider-K, AutumnSparkle, the Catbird Seat, Charming Ever After and Guest!_

* * *

 _Chapter 7 - A Questionable Quest_

The piece of cloth Thranduil had given her became Anna's most prized possession, her own small piece of happiness. It still bore his scent and if she closed her eyes and allowed the delicate silken fabric to run through her fingers, any physical distance between him and her evaporated into nothingness. She was almost sure that it was the one he had used to blindfold her on her first day in the forest. It was her loyal companion while she slept, easing the feeling of loneliness that overcame her more often than not in the darkness of night, and she carried it with her wherever she went, reminding her always of why she was still here after all. Of course she kept this hidden from everyone, after all she did not want people to believe that she was acting strangely, and even less she wanted to have to give it back if she were spotted with it in hand.

For several days after the meeting with Thranduil in the library she was so elated that she felt like floating around with a glowing smile on her face and a generally cheerful mood seemed to suffuse the halls of Mirkwood. On the surface things had not changed much, she was still only a guest, albeit a slightly less alien one, and still she did not see as much of Thranduil as she would have liked to. He was for most of the time busy with his many obligations, but the few instances they did meet, be it in the hallways or during a dinner with his guests that she had been invited to, there was a distinct warmth emanating from him that enveloped her heart like the sunlight caressing a budding flower in spring.

Brethilwen seemed especially pleased with this development and she kept peppering Anna with questions about her encounter with the king. "It fills me with joy," she told her one morning as she organised things in Anna's room with the nonchalant grace Anna had come to admire in her, "to see the king so at ease. It is like a weight has been lifted from him. He has not been in high spirits like this in a very long time." She turned around with a pile of sheets in her hands pressing them against her body and smiled. "Thank you for staying here."

Anna was slightly embarrassed that she would think the king's renewed liveliness was solely owed to her continuing presence. "I am sure that the change in his spirits must have other reasons too." But deep down she knew very well what was the truth, the image of the heartfelt relief on his face when he had heard her words had forever been etched in her mind. "There was a sincerity about him when he asked me. It was not a command, but a wish. A wish I could not deny him." She wanted to add, that she also did not have anywhere else to go, but instead she only said: "That is all."

But Brethilwen would not hear of it. "No, my dear, do not underestimate the importance of your decision," she said with a meaningful look and made to pick up the leftover food from the table when she realised that it was getting late. "I'm afraid, I will have to do the table later, but I will take the sheets with me." She turned around slightly flustered. "If that is all right with you?"

Having a servant attending her still felt somewhat strange, so she simply assured her not to worry. "You can come back anytime whenever it is convenient for you. I will be possibly going out for another walk into the forest with Legolas."

Brethilwen nodded in approval. "That sounds delightful, the prince is a very knowledgeable guide of our woods." She gave Anna another brief smile and turned to leave, when a thought crossed her mind "Has he taken you to the Enchanted River yet?"

Anna shook her head. "No, I don't think that we have ever gone that far from the palace. The king would not have allowed it. Legolas only has mentioned its existence to me once, warning me to stay away from it."

"It is a place with strong powers and dangerous indeed. But you must see it." Her eyes shone with a strange glow. "When the time is right."

When Brethilwen had left the room Anna stayed for a while pondering her words. Curious how she always had a way of leaving her slightly confused.

* * *

Anna had only just finished getting dressed for the day, making sure her small treasure was securely nestled in her pocket, when a timid knock at the door prevented her from drifting yet into another possible daydream. She did not expect Legolas so soon, but maybe time had flown faster than what she had thought. "Yes, come in," she called while throwing another quick look at her reflection in the mirror, which turned into a reproachful glance at her freckles, and then tugging some wayward strands of her hair back into her braids with a sigh. Her mouth fell open when she saw the small shape of Bilbo Baggins emerge behind her in the mirror. "Mr. Baggins?" She turned around, all the same surprised and pleased at the fact that he had indeed considered to accept her offer. "What a nice surprise!"

He bowed apologetically and shuffled his feet nervously. "Well, to be honest, I did not want to bother you with my presence but I remembered your offer and I could dearly use some reasonable company for once." He seemed quite distraught. She beckoned him to come closer, curious as to what was the reason of his annoyance.

"Please do sit down. And if you are hungry, there are still many leftovers from my breakfast. Apparently the elves think that I must be starving." A chuckle escaped her and when she saw his eyes drawn to the food she quickly pulled up another chair for the hobbit.

"This is very kind of you indeed. I have not had a proper first or second breakfast in quite a long time." He happily reached for the fresh loaf of bread and served himself some slices of cheese and ham to go with it.

"Would you like something to drink too? I am afraid I have only water if that is all right with you? I know that the king has some excellent wine in his cellar, but I assume that for this time of the day it would not be a wise choice anyway." She pointed at the pitcher on the table and offered him a mug. "Water will do just fine, thank you very much."

He poured himself some water while he dwelled on her last words. "It does seem that the king enjoys himself a good wine. And he is not averse to feasting either. I have already assumed that there must be a wine cellar somewhere to quench all that thirst. Strange that I still have not come across it."

"You would have to go down to the lowest levels of the palace. I have been there only once and seen the barrels that are kept there. And believe me there are many of them!"

For a while busy munching and gulping sounds were the only things heard in the room. Anna leaned back in her chair and observed the little man, legs dangling in the air on his oversized chair, and was wondering how he had gotten to the Elvenking's halls and even more why he was here with the dwarves and what was this peculiar quest all about. Maybe now that he had come to visit her, he would be more willing to reveal some of those secrets.

Bilbo noticed her lingering looks and once he had swallowed the last bite he reached for a napkin to clean his mouth, slid back in his chair to make himself comfortable and folded his hands on his belly. "Much better now." He gave her a polite smile and raised his eyebrows with a knowing look. "I know that you have many questions on your mind, but I am afraid that I may not be able to answer all of them to your satisfaction, as I am bound to a certain degree of secrecy."

She nodded in agreement. "I understand. But please do tell me, what caused you to be so upset today?"

"My dear, if you knew the dwarves like I do, you would be aware that they are a bit grumpy and quite stubborn and having a reasonable conversation with them can be as rewarding as an argument with an obstinate toddler. The thing is that all of them seem to be convinced that I will somehow be able to find a way out of the Elvenking's halls." He frowned and shook his head in dismay. "Unfortunately I must say that I have not been able to find anything. And soon we will be running out of time."

"You mean because of this quest?"

"Yes, every day spent here is a day lost." He sighed and his eyes trailed off into the distance.

"But can you not tell me at least something about this quest? I am really curious." She added quickly "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

He gave her a scrutinising look through squinty eyes. "You seem like a really nice lady and I am indeed very grateful for your hospitality but I am afraid that I can only give you a very limited account."

"A little bit is better than nothing at all, isn't it?" She smiled briefly at him and then she was all ears.

"Very well. The dwarves, they lost their home. It was taken from them by the —," he paused and pondered as how to circumnavigate the tricky parts. "Well, never mind by whom, they lost everything in a most tragic incident. And then an opportunity arose for them to reclaim their homeland, to take back what was stolen from them. A wizard came into play and then my humble self was finally added to the company. We set out last April from Bag End, which would be my home. We have overcome many obstacles until we got trapped here. And we need to be at our destination on Durin's Day, and that is soon, too soon for my liking."

Her eyes widened slightly. "But if you have a wizard in your company, he surely will be able to help. Isn't that why wizards are vested with special powers?" She was just a little bit proud that her visits to the library had not been for naught.

"So you know about wizards?" he shifted his eyebrows in skepticism. "Do they have wizards where you come from? I mean this other world you have been mentioning."

"No, I do not think so. But to be honest I would not know, because I cannot remember anything about my old world. But I have read about wizards in the king's library." She wanted to keep the conversation about Bilbo and the quest and not about her, but it was obvious that he was as interested in her secrets than she was in his.

He nodded, apparently satisfied for the moment with her explanation. "Of course, yes, books can be formidable teachers indeed. Anyway the wizard I am talking about would not be able to offer us any help, because he is not with us now. He had to attend some urgent wizarding business of his own." He shrugged as if this was the most common thing for wizards to do. "But while he is around, he is indeed a very useful asset to have, with that magic staff of his and all."

"So who is this wizard then, what is his name?" Her curiosity was certainly stirred up now.

"He apparently goes by many names, but most commonly he would be known as Gandalf the Grey." Bilbo lent his words as much weight as possible, but the name dropping did not have the desired effect as she only looked at him slightly confused. "Doesn't ring a bell then?"

"I am not quite sure. I did read about one called Mithrandir, could that be him?"

"Yes, yes it is indeed. That is the name the Elves have given him. Elrond of Rivendell also calls him by that name."

Her eyes widened in astonishment. "You have been to Imladris? And actually met Master Elrond?" This Mr. Baggins was full of surprises apparently. He seemed slightly flattered and nodded. "Yes, I have. I have been his guest with the company of the dwarves and Gandalf. A very lovely place, peaceful valley, a hidden paradise of perfect beauty that is." A glow was in his eyes and a glorified smile dawned on his face.

"Oh, it must be wonderful indeed. I have read quite a bit about it, and if I ever get out, I mean, if I ever have a chance to go there, I would very much like to see this place." She fell suddenly silent, fearing that she had once again deviated the conversation back to her.

And indeed, Bilbo took a renewed interest in her situation and a thought seemed to take shape in his head. He looked at her intently and leaned closer. "You know my dear, I do actually think that if you are in need of help concerning your 'situation' Gandalf may be just the one to ask. His knowledge is quite extensive, so he could have a solution even for your unusual problem." He gave her an encouraging look, served himself some more water and leaned back in the chair, allowing her to digest his suggestion.

She was silent for a moment, nodding slowly. "But did you not say that he has left? I mean, it does sound like a good idea, but first I would need to find him."

"That may indeed be a problem," Bilbo had to acknowledge her objection. "In my limited experience with Gandalf I have gotten to the conclusion that he cannot be found, but he will find the ones in need." He put the mug back on the table and his voice took on a serious tone. "If I make it out of here on time and we do complete our quest then I should be able to see Gandalf again, as he has agreed to meet us at our destination. And when I do, I will tell him about you." A kind smile spread on his face. "You have offered me your hospitality and I do not have anything to give in return. So the least I can do is to try to help you in any way I can."

Bilbo's brown eyes showed sincere sympathy and she smiled back at him. "That is very kind of you, Mr. Baggins." She blushed, visibly moved by his offer.

"You should call me Bilbo and whenever you either remember your old name or happen to come across a new one, make sure you let me know."

"Yes, I will, I promise."

With a sudden jolt of energy Bilbo rose from his chair and prepared to leave. "If I am ever to meet Gandalf then I better find this confounded exit, if it is indeed to be found."

"Yes, of course." With sadness in her heart she realised that she would maybe not see him again. "So it is good bye then Bilbo?"

He straightened his waistcoat, shaking off the last breadcrumbs. "For now at least, but we may yet meet again."

Anna led him to the door and reached out for his hand. "I want to thank you for the help that you have offered me. I sincerely wish you and your friends all the best."

"The pleasure is all mine and I am glad if I can somehow be of assistance." And with a smile that made his eyes crinkle and a curt bow he slipped out the door and was soon swallowed by the darkness of the hallway.

* * *

Anna spent the rest of the day slightly downcast and absentminded and not even the company of Legolas was able to lift her spirits. The walks into the forest were usually a welcome distraction and she had always enjoyed the time with the king's son. But today was different, all this talk about a home lost and Bilbo's desperate attempt to find a way out so it could be reclaimed had pulled at her heartstrings in the strangest of ways. And the far away possibility that a wizard might be able to give her answers to her questions was like a faint glimmer of hope on the horizon. But was it really hope? Or was it rather fear? Fear of what those answers could be.

She reached for the fabric inside her pocket feeling its softness against her skin and it was as if two forces were tearing at her heart in opposing directions, threatening to shatter it into a million pieces. Torn in between her feelings for the king and the pull she felt towards a home she did not even know if it still existed. She had chosen to stay here out of what she believed to be love, but how could she even be sure that Thranduil would reciprocate those feelings? After all he had not made any promises, nor any further advances, besides being now generally good-natured towards her. Had she forsaken her whatever slim chances of getting back home for something that only existed in her imagination? Her spirits sank as the dismal clouds of doubt descended on her, clutching her heart in a suffocating grip.

Little did she know that rather sooner than later things would come thick and fast, turning upside down her fragile life at the palace.

The seed of curiosity which Bilbo had unintentionally planted had taken root and sprouted into a sapling that eagerly reared its head towards the surface and would not be plucked any more from her heart. It was as if a curtain had been pulled away from her eyes, revealing a wider world that lay behind the walls of this palace and even beyond the dense woods surrounding it.

The next day after breakfast she decided that she needed to find out more about those dwarves. Lucky for her, she had been granted more liberties lately. The level of surveillance had considerably lessened and for most of the time she was now allowed to walk the halls of the king on her own. Only when it came to leave the palace, Thranduil had maintained his strict orders and she was either to be accompanied by his son Legolas or once in a while Tauriel, whose initial distant attitude towards her was only slowly shifting towards a hesitant level of trust. She could not quite tell what it was that Tauriel did not like about her, because no harsh words ever left her mouth, but there was always a lingering tension in between them.

As she strolled along the dim hallway that led from her room down to the lower levels of the palace and towards the cells, she was glad to find her path practically deserted. Brethilwen had told her that tonight there was going to be another feast, so most elves were busy with preparations in either the kitchens or the designated hall being adorned for the festivity tonight.

Doubts about her undertaking resurfaced as she took another sharp bend down the labyrinthine pathways. What if the dwarves would even refuse to talk to her? After all they did not know her at all. What if she just got herself into trouble for nothing? Wasn't she even betraying Thranduil's trust in engaging in a conversation with the dwarves?

She pushed those thoughts aside and picked up her pace, but a bitter aftertaste with an uneasy feeling in her stomach remained when she finally reached the narrow ledge of the stairway spiralling down to the cells.

But to her surprise someone was already there. Someone she did not expect at all.

To be continued …

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Oho, cliffhanger! Who will be down there? And yet another meeting with Bilbo...what will come of that?_

 _Reviews, favs and follows are greatly appreciated! Thank you guys :D!_

 _Stay tuned for Ch 8^^!_


	9. Mayhem in Mirkwood

_A BIG thank you to all those who have reviewed Ch 7: thrdlwood, Guest, Raider-K, Lydwina Marie, Charming Ever After, The Enchanted Stream, Guest and another Guest, Autumn Sparkle! And, WOW, this story has passed 50 reviews with only 7 chapters! You readers are amazing *bows deeply*!_

* * *

 _Chapter 8 - Mayhem in Mirkwood_

Anna froze in her tracks on the narrow ledge as she caught sight of a vibrant red mane that could only belong to one person: Tauriel. And beyond doubt it was her graceful figure who was sitting at the bottom of the stairs with her back to Anna, right beside one of the cells, immersed in an animated conversation with whoever was inside that prison.

Anna pressed herself against the wall behind her trying to stay out of view. Although it was not forbidden for her to be wandering in this area of the palace, she felt considerably uneasy if she created the impression that she was either doing something secretive or that she had actually been following Tauriel. After all, she was the one who still treated her with a distinct trace of distrust. She slouched to the floor and peered around the corner, trying to pick up something of the conversation that was going on down there, but the voices were hushed and quite intimate, surely this did not sound like a guard talking to a prisoner. But it was impossible to make out the words that were said. And even if she would be able to understand something, she was quite sure that none of it was intended for her ears. Now she could even see calloused hands emerge from between the bars and reaching out for Tauriel's hands. And to Anna's surprise she did not pull hers away, but held on to them in something that did look considerably more than just a friendly handshake.

She retreated back around the corner, feeling that she had intruded into something private and remained crouched on the floor, her mind trying to digest what she just had witnessed. Could it be that Tauriel had an interest in one of the dwarves? Would that not be quite an affront? After all that she had learned in her short stay in the Woodland Realm it was quite clear that Elves and Dwarves were not necessarily on friendly terms. While she sat there dwelling on her thoughts she suddenly noticed the obvious absence of voices travelling up and she could make out the distinct shuffling of footsteps approaching the ledge where she was hiding. She shrank back into the shadows and held her breath, hoping to stay undetected, when Tauriel passed her with swift strides. Her head sank back against the wall as she closed her eyes and exhaled in relief.

"Walk with me." Tauriel had turned around to face Anna and beckoned her to come to step closer. She scrambled to her feet and approached Tauriel with an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

"I know how this must look to you, but I was not eavesdropping. I just wanted to, I was on my way to —," she stammered, but Tauriel cut her off abruptly.

"I don't know what you think you saw, but I assure you it is none of your concern."

"Yes, of course, I was not assuming anything," she was quick to reply.

"I need some fresh air, why don't you come with me? You look like you could use a change of ambience too." Tauriel did not wait for Anna's answer but picked up a swift pace like was her usual style and so did Anna not to lag behind.

* * *

Up the twisting passages and meandering bridges she trotted beside her silently until they reached the gates that were pulled open at Tauriel's command. The morning sun greeted her with a blissful golden glimmer through the branches that were still laden with leaves in dark red and burnt orange. Autumn had put on its colourful raiment in the Woodland Realm and it was beautiful. She eagerly soaked in the fresh air and allowed the sun rays to tickle her nose when she heard Tauriel beside her. "Come, let us walk down to the river."

She felt already more alive in the welcoming embrace of nature, so she joined Tauriel with less reluctance as she crossed the terrace that led to the bridge, veering sideways towards a steep pathway over gnarled roots covered in moss and fallen leaves leading down to the river. There was only a narrow bank amongst the dense roots of the ancient trees, but some scattered boulders served as a welcome resting place for the one who wanted to enjoy the merry gurgling of the fresh waters in peaceful solitude. She took a seat beside Tauriel, who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts for a moment as she followed the lively flow of the river with her eyes. The abundant waves of her auburn hair flickered around her like flames beneath the sunlight and when she turned to face Anna her brown eyes lingered on her with that intimidating keenness of her.

"I know that you think that I do not trust you. No, don't object, I know you do." Tauriel beckoned her to be silent before she could mouth a protest.

"I will be honest with you. I did have my reservations as the circumstances of your arrival here were quite unusual to say the least." She raised one eyebrow. "As head of the king's guard it is my duty to keep an eye on all possible threats to our kingdom, so I hope you understand. It is nothing personal." She picked up a pebble toying with it in her hand before she slid it into her pocket. "But the king seems to trust you and if he does so do I."

Her matter-of-fact tone meant that this was as much as she was going to get from her and it was now Anna's turn in this conversation. She was at a momentary loss for words, but maybe this was her chance to set things right with her.

"I am sorry if I have ever given you a reason to doubt my sincerity. I know that the way I came here may seem strange to you, but I assure you that any dishonesty is far from my mind. I myself do still have many questions as to how I came to this place, but I am afraid no one has been able to give me answers. Nevertheless I am very grateful for the hospitality I have received. The king has been very generous and so has Legolas." At the mention of the king's son Tauriel's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Legolas speaks always highly of you," Anna elaborated. "As a matter of fact a good amount of our conversations during the walks into the forest were spent with him talking about you." She hoped to have dispelled some of Tauriel's doubts as she had entertained a suspicion that maybe Tauriel was jealous of her spending time with Legolas.

"Yes, Legolas is very special indeed. He is dear to me like a brother." Tauriel smiled briefly and after a moment of silence her gaze softened when she looked at Anna again. "It is a strange thing, love, isn't it?"

Anna didn't know quite what to make of that statement, so she only said: "Yes, I guess it is."

Tauriel seemed to ponder something before she went on, her voice all of a sudden emotional:

"At times so elusive that we dare to even doubt its existence, it suddenly takes our heart captive when we least expect it. And then what are we to do? What choice do we make? Do we follow our heart? And what if we are led astray only to realise that it was not real after all?"

She sighed as she picked up another pebble, this time tossing it into the river with an archer's precision, so it would hit and bounce off a large boulder in the middle of the stream.

Anna followed suit sending a pebble she had picked up into the river to chase afters Tauriel's.

"I do believe if two hearts have found love they must follow their paths together." After a moment of silence and only the gurgling sound of the river filling the air she said: "But what about the heart that looks up to the stars and is captured by the brightest of them all? Will it ever find the light or is it doomed to drown alone in the endless blackness of night?"

"Sometimes patience is the answer to what may seem impossible at first." Another one of Tauriel's pebbles cut through the rippling waves like a knife.

"That may work for you elves, but I am only human, my days are numbered," Anna responded glumly, sinking another pebble into the depths of the river with a dull plop.

Tauriel interrupted her motions to study Anna's face, her eyes observing her closely. "I can only surmise what it is that your heart wants, but maybe the starlight you long for will need some guidance to find its path down to earth." She gave her a meaningful look, dropping the leftover pebbles she had collected in her lap to the ground as she rose from her boulder. "But I daresay we better get back as I have still business to attend to and you may want to prepare for tonight's feast."

"Yes, of course." Anna rose from her seat stretching her legs to shake off the slight stiffness and followed Tauriel silently to the steep trail back up to the terrace and into the palace.

Once inside Tauriel turned to her with a smile. "I am glad that we both were able to remove some doubts we may have harboured."

"Yes, indeed, I am also relieved that we were able to sort things out."

"Until tonight then."

"Yes, tonight at the feast."

With a small bow she bade Anna goodbye and left her standing in the middle of the ample hallway leading up to Thranduil's hall, to which she had been called to.

* * *

It was still early enough for Anna to make another attempt and talk to the dwarves. The hallways of the palace were slightly busier than this morning but maybe she would still be able to sneak down to the dungeons unnoticed. Elves from the kitchens were carrying trays laden with dishes and bottles of wine were hauled by the dozen in small carts up towards the hall for tonight's feast. But everyone seemed to be minding their own business, so she was able to make her way towards the cells at a swift pace.

"Pssst! Pssst!" Someone was calling from one of the smaller hallways that branched off towards the living quarters. She turned around, trying to spot who was there, but she could not see anything in the twilight.

"Who's there?" She called towards the direction from which she assumed the source of the voice.

But instead of an answer she felt someone pulling at her arm. She flinched, trying to free herself from the grip when she recognised a familiar voice. "It's me, Bilbo. I am sorry that I scared you." He emerged from the shadows, still tugging at her sleeve and pulling her into a nearby corner to avoid curious eyes discovering them both.

"I found it!"

"You found what?"

"The exit! I found the exit!" He could barely contain himself with giddy excitement. Trying to keep his voice down he detailed his discovery. "Remember when you told me about the wine cellar?" She nodded.

"I went there to have a look and you would not believe it, but they have a trapdoor! That is how they send the barrels down to an underground river and to wherever it is that they are refilled again. And I bet barrels are not the only thing that can go down that trapdoor." He beamed full of pride at his own discovery and smiled at her expectantly.

Her eyes were wide in astonishment at this revelation. "You mean to say that this is the way you and your friends will be able to escape?"

"Yes, I do. I have a plan. It would be too complicated to explain all the details, so I will skip that. Besides there is not much time, because everything has to happen tonight."

"Tonight? Why so soon?"

"You know that we are running out of time, so the sooner the better. And tonight will be another feast as I have found out, so this is our window of opportunity. Less eyes on us, you know."

It took her a moment to digest what Bilbo had just told her and then she nodded slowly. "I understand. But are you sure this will work? Will you not be discovered?"

"No, I won't. I told you I have my little secret that allows me to slip by the elves and if luck is with us tonight, then I should be able to get everyone out."

A noise from the far end of the hallway startled Bilbo and he reached out for her hands. "I am afraid I will have to go now. I do not want to risk being seen, and neither should you be seen with me. After all, I am not even supposed to be here."

"Yes, yes of course." She shook his hand as she heard the distinct shuffling of footsteps approaching. "Good bye then Bilbo and best of luck."

He hesitated and then there was a sudden glow in his eyes. "Do you want to come with us? I am afraid, we are not as elegant a company as the elves, but we could use someone with your spirits. And you would be able to find Gandalf. And possibly on the way back we could even visit Rivendell. How does that sound?"

For a moment his excitement had sparked a fire in her eyes, a fire of adventure and a desire to find answers to her burning questions. Soon the footsteps would be reaching their hidden corner, so she had to act fast. Bilbo's hand tightened around hers and if she allowed it, she could go with him and join his path. Her heart was hammering as the footsteps were getting closer. She needed to make a decision.

And then the fire in her eyes was gone as she felt the flames of an even stronger fire in her heart flaring up and she pulled back her hand hastily. "No, Bilbo. I am sorry, but I cannot go with you. I made a promise to the king and I will not break it."

His eyes were sad for a moment but then he nodded and gave her a warm smile. "I understand. You must follow your heart."

"Yes, I must."

"So, good-bye it is then. I hope we shall meet again some day." He briefly took her hands in both of his, gave them a tight squeeze and turned away, scuttling off quickly, before he would indeed be discovered.

Anna leaned against the cold wall for a moment, standing silently in the corner and murmuring into the hallway "Good-bye Bilbo."

* * *

She did not want to get in the way of Bilbo's escape plans, so she decided to finally give up on her project of talking to the dwarves. After all it seemed that it was not meant to be. But she was also not in a festive mood after all the unexpected agitation of today, so she excused herself from tonight's banquet and spent the rest of the day in a mood of suspense and fearful anticipation retiring to her room early.

That night she tossed around in bed and when she finally drifted off to an uneasy sleep it was full of dreadful and dark dreams of daunting hallways and doors being shut right in front of her face and drums, drums chasing her with their dull and insistent pounding. She turns around to go back but she finds herself locked in completely, all walls closing in on her. She knows that she is trapped. She hammers against every door, but their solid wood is unyielding, only resulting in her bruised hands. The drums increase their droning sound, ear-deafening and obnoxious. Darkness and despair take her. There is no way out, she knows it now. The drums will find her and the walls will crush her. She must run, but she cannot move. She is stuck. And no help will come.

Panting heavily she woke from her dream, bathed in sweat, her sheets a complete mess, when she realised that the drums were still there. Only that they were not drums but heavy footsteps, echoing across the hallways accompanied by agitated clamour not far from her door. She sat bolt upright, her heart beating like mad, as it dawned on her that she knew already what was the possible reason for all this fuss. There was not much time to think, so she jumped out of bed, threw on her robe, her trembling fingers failing at tying a neat knot. Tentatively she pulled her door open and a bustling of voices and sounds greeted her. Guards were rushing towards the lower levels and she could hear the distinct voice of Thranduil shouting further up. At first nobody seemed to be paying attention to her and she just lingered in the hallway not knowing where to turn to. But then she saw Faeldir's face bobbing among the crowd as he made his way towards her, meandering in between the guards that were hurtling in the opposite direction.

When he caught sight of her and saw the utter worry on Anna's face he called out to her: "My lady, do not trouble yourself." He allowed the last of the guards to pass by and then slid to her side, greeting her with a smile.

A lopsided smile was the best she could manage. "What is all this commotion about?"

Despite the general clamour he had not lost his good humour. "I am afraid the chief guard and the king's butler are going to have a hard time today."

"And why would that be? Don't speak in riddles to me, Faeldir." She was anxious and already had a bad feeling about this.

"The dwarves, they are gone." He sounded more amused than outraged about this, but when he saw the shocked expression on her face he tried to appease her. "But this does not need to worry you _adaneth_. It's not like you had anything to do with this. The king will be furious though, that much is for sure." He threw her a meaningful look.

She held her breath, her face a frozen mask and her heart a roaring river, threatening to break out of the shallow river-bed that was her haphazard composure. Yes, she knew Thranduil and his anger, and woe betide the poor soul who incurred his wrath. She had to keep her wits together if this was not going to end in some sort of disaster for her, so she turned to Faeldir in the most innocuous way she could muster. "Is it known how they escaped?"

Being presented with the opportunity to pass on news Faeldir was in his element, and sure enough with an eager gleam in his eyes he laid before her everything he knew. "To be honest, my dear, much of it is still a mystery. But as far as I can ascertain they escaped through the trapdoor of the wine cellar, apparently using the empty barrels to hide, taking advantage that the chief guard and Galion the butler had fallen asleep after too much wine. So when the barrels were sent down the river the dwarves went to their freedom. How they were able to apparently free themselves from their locked cells remains unclear. They must have had someone helping them. Whoever that was, has not yet been uncovered."

She tried to keep her expression as nonchalant as possible. "Well, maybe it is for the best that they are gone. I dare say they caused the king more trouble than what it was worth."

For a fleeting moment there was a bewildered look on Faeldir's face, soon to be replaced again by his usual good-natured smile. "You may be quite right, my dear. The king was indeed very much concerned with their unwillingness to reveal the nature of their journey. Nevertheless he does not appreciate the fact that they somehow managed to escape right under his nose." With a glance down the hallway he smoothed his dark blue tunic and bowed curtly. "I would love to extend this conversation my dear. But I am afraid, I have to take my leave now. My brother has been looking for me, and I do not want to keep him waiting."

"Yes, of course. I do not want to be the reason to make your brother wait. Send him my regards." She leaned against the wall, her knees weak like jelly.

"Are you sure that you are all right? You look as pale as a sheet. My brother and I also missed your company last night." He frowned and reached out for her, fearing that she might actually collapse.

"Yes, I am fine. I did not feel well yesterday and sought to go to bed early. But unfortunately I did not sleep well last night. But I will be all right." She gave him the most disarming smile she could manage.

"All right. I will take my leave then." The moment Faeldir had left, she stormed back into her room, making sure she had locked the door. She needed to be alone now. Digest what she just heard; and make a plan.

* * *

This was a disaster! And she only had herself to blame. Of course she should have thought about all that before! She had told Bilbo about the wine cellar, and although she did not know about the trapdoor, she still had given him a nudge in the right direction. And now the dwarves were gone. She felt glad for them and for Bilbo, after all she still thought that their quest was just and that they had every right to be on their way. But in the heat of the moment she simply forgot about the consequences: they would be gone, but she would still be here and sooner or later it would be revealed that someone had helped them and that she had something to do with it. Whatever was she thinking? Did she really expect that this would just go unnoticed? The dwarves would simply evaporate and Thranduil would not bother to find out how they were able to escape? How naive of her!

Anna spent most of the day in a hazy blur, locked up in her room, brooding over what she had done and how she could find a way out of this unfortunate quandary. Lucky for her not even Legolas nor Tauriel came to see her and when Brethilwen knocked to bring her lunch Anna only allowed her in reluctantly. She did not want Brethilwen to see her like this in distress. And sure enough her eyes filled with worry at the sight of Anna's obvious nervousness. But this time it was not something she wanted to confide in Brethilwen, so she was unusually taciturn and eventually Brethilwen must have realised that she wanted to be to herself. She barely ate, pacing the room like a caged animal, then collapsing into bed, trying to find some sleep, since she had spent the night before tormented by nightmares. But it was no good, no rest or sleep would come to her.

She had to confess. She had to tell Thranduil. And it had to be soon, before someone else would.

Even if that meant that the frail trust that had been built in between them both would be shattered into pieces. Her heart filled with a thick cloud of despair, black as night, at the sheer thought of losing Thranduil's affection over this impulsive deed of hers. Everything that she had gained up to now would be lost again. But maybe he would have mercy with her? Maybe he would even understand? If she only could explain to him why she had helped Bilbo in the first place, then maybe, maybe there was still hope for her here in the Woodland Realm. She reached into her pocket, but even her little talisman would only speak of betrayal. She had to unburden her heart, now, not later. This could not wait, it would only get worse.

Anna looked at herself in the mirror and when she saw her own reflection it was like looking at a stranger. Who was this person gaping at her with wide eyes, a face pale and distraught? Not an elf, but a human dressed in elvish fashion, still looking utterly out of place here. What was she doing here? Whose life was she leading? Was it hers or someone else's? Her own eyes did not reveal anything, an empty reflection with a hungry demand for answers was staring back at her. She tore her eyes away from the mirror, this was too unsettling, she did not need to be reminded of her own 'situation' as Bilbo used to call it, she had enough problems to deal with as it was.

Bracing herself for the worst she made her way towards the king's chambers with a determined stride. At this time of the day he must have already retired to his rooms, so the odds that she would find him there were most likely in her favour. Thranduil's chambers were only one hallway away from her own room, so in a matter of a few minutes she found herself in front of the massive oaken doors with the elaborate brass knobs embellishing them. With clammy palms and a hammering heartbeat she considered her own audaciousness. Never before had she actually gone to see him in his private chambers. She was so nervous that she was almost ready to turn around and go back to her room, when all of a sudden the doors opened in front of her and Feren emerged from inside. There was a strained look on his face and he only managed a tight-lipped smile when he saw her, apparently as surprised at her appearance as she was at his.

"Oh, I am sorry, I did not know that you were here," he apologised with a curt bow, holding the door for her. "Is the king expecting you?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I am afraid he is not in a pleasant mood tonight, so you may want to come back tomorrow."

But before she could answer, Thranduil's voice rang from inside: "Feren, to whom are you talking there? Was I not clear enough when I said that I did not wish any more disturbance tonight?"

Feren turned around and bowed towards the king. "I am sorry my lord. It is your guest. I found her here in front of your door, but I already told her that —"

"Tell her to come in." Thranduil cut him off mid-sentence, his voice now just slightly less annoyed.

"Yes, of course my lord." Feren bowed again and beckoned her to go in. "The king will see you now." When Anna did not move immediately, she heard him mumble behind her. "Don't make him wait then, _adaneth,_ " and with a soft push against her shoulders she was shoved inside and the door clicked shut behind her.

To be continued…

* * *

 _Author's Notes: So, are we all ready to face Thranduil and his possible wrath? Will Anna find the courage to confess to him? And what will happen to her if she does?_

 _As always, favs, follows and reviews are very much appreciated!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 9^^!_


	10. Dragon Fire

_A big thank you goes out to all those fabulous and supportive people, who have reviewed the previous chapter: Lydwina Marie, thrndlwood, Raider-K, The Enchanted Stream, Autumn Sparkle, spotzamanda!_

* * *

 _Chapter 9 - Dragon Fire_

Anna had not been to Thranduil's chambers since the day of her arrival in Mirkwood but the images of what had happened that day were as vivid in her mind as if it just had been yesterday. Maybe having come here was not such a good idea after all, this felt all of a sudden too intimate for the purpose of her visit. Her eyes wandered around the room, halting at the bench and her heart skipped a beat when she remembered the moment Thranduil had been so close to her and had captured her heart in the most unexpected way.

And then her eyes were drawn to him, as he stood beside one of the tables pouring wine in two glasses, his back turned to her. His heavy brocade cloak of silver and orange was loosely draped around his shoulders and shimmered iridescently beneath the candlelight. A long robe of ash grey slid in and out of view as he moved, the sleek perfection of his silver blonde hair enveloping his shoulders and gracefully flowing down to the middle of his back.

The heavy silence was finally broken when he turned around to greet her: "Good evening, my dear. Please, do come closer. What a pleasant surprise after today's trouble with the dwarves. I imagine word has spread through the palace?"

"Yes, my lord it has."

Thranduil sighed: "Most unpleasant and annoying indeed."

She blushed, not quite sure as how to go on, but luckily Thranduil's conversational skills would come to the rescue.

"To what do I owe this pleasure of you visiting me?" He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, but when he saw her troubled face, the familiar crease on his forehead deepened. "You do not look well. Is something the matter?"

"I am afraid I am not feeling all too well, my lord."

"Nothing too serious I hope." There was concern in his eyes. "Was that why you were absent from last night's feast? Your presence was dearly missed."

"Yes, I am sorry, but I was trying to get some rest, because yesterday —," She hesitated. "There is something that I need to tell you."

"Go ahead. But first, please do sit down." He pointed at the comfortably cushioned half-round bench in one of the alcoves that was illuminated by an overhanging lantern and had a small table in front of it.

She shuffled to her appointed seat, keeping her eyes on the floor, barely being able to look at him as he approached her with two glasses of wine in his hands. How on earth would she be able to confess to Thranduil what she had done, when all she wanted to do was just sink into his arms and forget all her worries?

He handed her one glass and took a seat beside her indicating that he expected her to drink with him. She was only able to take one sip, although the wine was delicious, but her throat was clogging up. When she put her glass down on the table his penetrating gaze sent her blood rushing through her veins like a tempest and she was glad for the abundance of cushions around her, providing her with a sense of security in her inner turmoil.

"Now I am curious what it is that you wanted to tell me." He reclined slightly against the cushions, the sweeping fabric of his cloak splayed around his body, spilling onto the floor and pooling around his black boots in a sea of silver and orange.

Guilt closed its iron claws around her chest threatening to squeeze the last remnants of courage from her heart. She kept her eyes on her tightly folded hands in her lap, as she did not dare to look at him.

"I think," she began hesitantly, "I know how the dwarves were able to escape."

"You do?" Thranduil's voice oscillated in between disbelief and astonishment and when she finally looked up to him, he was assessing her with a strange glance. Eyes that could tell a lie from the truth. Eyes that could see to the bottom of her soul. Eyes she wished to lose herself in and drown in their endless sea of blue. But she needed to resurface from the ocean of his eyes and quickly pull herself together before he would think that she had gone totally insane.

"Yes, and I am afraid I had something to do with it."

Thranduil frowned, but did not interrupt her as the words just fell from her mouth:

"The dwarves were not alone, a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins was with them. I met him once in the hallways as he was scavenging for food. I felt sorry for him, so I offered him to come to my room so he could eat in a more dignified way. At first he refused, but then one day he indeed came to me. And in our conversation he told me about the dwarves and their quest to reclaim their home. He was all distraught, because he was the only hope they had to find a way out. At some point I mentioned to him the wine cellar and that is how he was able to find the trapdoor and use it as exit for the dwarves and himself. So I guess I somehow pushed him in the right direction."

Thranduil's fingers tensed almost imperceptibly around his glass as he listened to her revelation and when she had finished he sighed and put the glass on the table. "Why did you not tell me about any of this before?"

"I don't know, but I think I was afraid of what would become of Bilbo if you knew of his existence."

"And what is his fate to you?"

"I felt sympathy for him. He had been lingering in your halls for weeks, snatching morsels when he could and trying to find a way out for his friends. So I wanted to help. And hearing about the dwarves and their loss of home, I thought that they should be given a chance rather than rot in the dungeons. After all I do know how it feels to be without a home."

Her eyes travelled up the abundant fabric of Thranduil's cloak and the perfectly fitting robe underneath to his neck where his spider brooch glittered like darkest amber in the twilight. Thranduil's eyes had narrowed dangerously and his hand gripped the armrest a little too tight, an aura of smouldering menace emanating from beneath his composed self. She held her breath, watching him from the corner of her eye and bracing herself for an angry outburst. Only it did not come. Instead the chill of an accusing silence permeated her heart, the steady purling of the water filling the air, but she did not dare to say anything for fear of just making everything worse.

Suddenly Thranduil rose from his seat and turned towards the pool, his gaze lost in the glittering surface, the silent tension in the room rising to unbearable heights. Anna lowered her gaze, her heartbeat hammering and her clammy hands tightly wrapped in her lap. When she thought that her emotions were going to burst through the dam of her tenuous composure, he turned around again and she felt herself shrink into insignificance beneath his glowering gaze as he towered over her like a wrathful god of old.

"Look at me!" he ordered and she obeyed reluctantly, afraid of what she would find in his eyes. Anger flickered beneath their piercing blue as he looked sternly at her. "How could you go behind my back like that? What were you even thinking?"

"I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I was just trying to do what I felt was right. But maybe I was not thinking ahead," she muttered ruefully, a growing lump in her throat threatening to drown her voice.

"Indeed you were not." He clenched his jaw as he went on, the biting frost of his voice piercing her heart with icicles. "Do you really believe that your empathy — be it real or imagined — with a company of dwarves and a hobbit entitles you to meddle in things that do not concern you?" He added with a low growl: "And that are dangerous."

"My intention was not to cause any trouble."

"But you did." He sighed, annoyance flickering across his face. "Even though you may not have acted with ill intent, the outcome is still the same." He shook his head, his voice now full of contempt. "What is it with you humans and your desire to act upon an impulse? It is a tendency not to be eradicated, so it seems. Much harm and suffering has come from this and apparently will continue to do so."

"Well, I am deeply sorry if I am not blessed with the foresight of the Elves," she grumbled defiantly, not knowing how she even dared to object so blatantly. But despite her fear she felt now also anger rising. Thranduil had every right to be upset with her, but there was no need to attribute her actions to what he considered to be a human weakness, just because she had helped one little hobbit out of his misery.

"You have quite the nerve talking to me like that." He raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of surprise and outrage.

"What I meant to say is that I simply acted upon what I felt was right. If that makes me human, well that is what I am after all. I did not foresee the consequences, that is true, but if I cannot trust my heart, then what guidance do I have?" Her spirit sank as she felt driven into a corner by Thranduil's accusations.

"You may well have thought your actions to be rightful, but that still does not vindicate the fact that you have kept all this hidden from me." His gaze softened slightly as he went on. "Why would you trust a hobbit, but not me? Have I not also earned your trust?"

The reproachful tone in his voice tore at her heart. He pulled the folds of his cloak tighter around his shoulders, reached out for his glass of wine and returned to his seat beside her.

He was so unbearably close and still so infinitely far and it took all her meagre self-control not to throw herself at him, begging him for forgiveness and find blissful oblivion in his embrace.

"You do have my trust and I am sorry if I made you think otherwise. I was simply scared that Bilbo would also end up in the dungeons if you found out about him."

"Why would you think of me being so unreasonable?"

"Not unreasonable, but distrustful of strangers, especially of someone that would prove to be in league with the dwarves. And I did not want to be at fault for the failure of their quest."

He shook his head and shifted his eyebrows in skepticism as curiosity began to gradually overtake his initial anger. "It still eludes my understanding why you should have anything to do with dwarves and hobbits."

She fiddled about with the drawstring of her bodice as she attempted to organise her thoughts, but whatever raft she had haphazardly cobbled together, it was doomed to drown in the roaring sea of her emotions. She wished nothing more than to stay here close to Thranduil, but she also wanted to be truthful about her motives concerning Bilbo and the dwarves. Treacherous were these waters to navigate and if she did not want to suffer ship-wreck there was only one course to stir: honesty.

"I am waiting." Thranduil reached for her glass of wine and offered it to her. "Maybe you want this now?"

"Yes, thank you." She managed a small grateful smile and took it gladly, allowing the delicious warmth of the sweet Dorwinion wine to dabble her parched throat and fill her insides with a warmth that she so dearly needed. Thranduil watched her over the rim of his glass, apprehension and curiosity mingling in his eyes.

With a deep sigh Anna embarked on her journey of confession, giving Thranduil as much details as she could remember of her encounters and conversations with Bilbo. After all, if she was going to confess, she wanted to make it count and at least try to earn back his trust. He was an attentive listener and did not once interrupt her, allowing her to take her time and find her own pace, something she was truly grateful for. The only thing she was hesitant to reveal was what Bilbo had told her about Gandalf. It was not something she wanted to talk about; not tonight.

When she had finished, Thranduil furrowed his brow, but remained silent, his arms draped around the cushions.

But for her all this proved to be too much, now that she had unburdened herself she felt the emptiness in her chest being flooded with despair. All she managed to say was: "Please, don't send me away. Anything but not that!" her voice barely more than a whisper.

When he finally looked at her his expression was impenetrable, showing neither anger nor affection. "I will not send you away if that is what you fear." Hope stirred in her heart, maybe not everything was lost after all. "But you have to be aware that your deeds will have consequences."

"Yes." There was a lump in her throat choking her voice.

"The dwarves are gone and they will be waking the dragon." His face darkened as he continued. "And its wrath and ruin will be upon them and maybe upon us all."

"The dragon?!" Anna's eyes widened in shock as she recovered her ability to speak.

"Yes, the dragon. I assume Bilbo did not care to mention this insignificant detail, did he?" He tilted his head sideways, his voice now downright condescending.

"No, he didn't. I am sure I would have remembered that. I mean a dragon is something to remember." A nervous chuckle escaped her, but she fell silent again, embarrassed at her unduly behaviour.

Apparently her own confession was not the end of tonight's revelations.

* * *

He took another sip of wine, put the glass back on the table, allowing the fabric of his cloak to slide off his shoulders, a cascade of orange and silver flowing around his lean body.

"So let me enlighten you then: The dragon I speak of is Smaug and he is the one that took the mountain from the dwarves, as dragons are ever drawn to treasures and their desire to possess them matches the dwarves' love for gold in their fierceness. For many years he has been lurking deep down in the darkness of _Amon Ereb_ and no living eye has seen him outside for many years. But he is still there, brooding in the dark and guarding his treasure with jealous love and the dwarves are fools if they think that they can either slay or outsmart him. They will all perish and Smaug will bring ruin and death upon them and everyone that stands in between him and the gold." Thranduil's eyes had trailed off into the distance as if he was remembering a doom of old that still haunted him. She did not dare to speak, but sat silently beside him, holding her breath. And when he turned to her there was terror in his eyes. "You do not know dragon fire and its harrowing ruin. It is a wall of flames, a storm of fire and it burns everything in its wake, Men, Elves and Dwarves alike."

And suddenly his left eye went blind, staring at her in ghostly whiteness and his left cheek seemed to melt beneath the sizzling heat of an invisible fire, eating away his flawless elven skin and laying bare charred flesh and gaping wounds, a visible memory of a deadly flame forever burnt in his face. Impeccable beauty mutilated and a pure soul eternally marked by a horror it could not forget.

The light in the room went dim as an unsettling darkness surrounded Thranduil's figure, blurring his features as if he were a vision from a disturbing dream. A chill crept under her skin and into her heart, clutching it with the ruthless hand of despair as an impenetrable shadow enveloped her like black ink dipped in water.

Her eyes were wide in horror and she averted them instinctively. It was not the ghastly view that scared her, but rather the feeling that she was witnessing something that was not meant for her eyes. But he made her look, so she would know the shadow that was in his heart.

"Look at my face!" he said and in his other eye there was a blazing flame, not scorching and deadly like the dragon fire, but bright and pure as starlight. "And look well so you do not forget what you see. For I have faced the doom. The dragon fire is only the beginning, the onset of darkness, an evil malice that festers and feeds on fear and dread. Long has it hidden in the East and from there it will arise again and spread. Sinking into the hearts of those that will fall under the spell of evil. Ever will it seek to conquer the light with a shadow as black as night."

"You mean war?" Her voice was hushed, as if she was afraid of what her own words would bring with them. "Is this what this is all about, the darkness and the dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, all disfigurement vanishing from his face without a trace in the blink of an eye, his untarnished beauty restored as if by magic. "Yes, that is what I fear. The evil may have been broken and banished, but I know in my heart that it has not been conquered forever. And it will break forth again, not resting until it is either victorious or utterly defeated. But I will do everything in my power to keep our kingdom safe, darkness will not take us. The Woodland Realm will not fall, not as long as I am king."

There was innate valour in him and never had he looked more regal to her than now, a wise and prudent king concerned with the well-being of his kingdom and prepared to fight the evil power should it arise to threaten his land and its people.

Finally she understood, or at least she thought that she did, that this was not just about a group of stubborn and homeless dwarves setting out to reclaim their mountain, but that there was a bigger plan and an even greater danger behind all this. And that was the shadow that lay on Thranduil's soul.

The horror on her face filled his eyes with worry and he quickly sought to dispel her concerns. "But you need not despair. I can assure you that we are perfectly safe here inside the palace. No evil dares enter these walls. And I will have the watch doubled along the borders. Nothing moves in this kingdom but I hear of it."

Any traces of lingering anger and annoyance had now given way to a protectiveness that shone like a faint glimmer of hope on the dim horizon of her future. She gave him a weak smile, emotional exhaustion and sleep deprivation now finally taking a toll on her.

"But we will speak no more of this now. Enough of darkness and doom for one evening." He leaned forward, his eyes travelling across her face. "You look awfully pale. Maybe you should now try to find some rest. At this moment there is still no need to fear the worst."

"Yes, you are probably right." She nodded, grateful for his display of empathy.

Thranduil rose from his seat and she followed suit making her way to the door.

She had already reached for the door knob when she turned around again.

"One more thing."

"Yes?" Thranduil had remained in the middle of the room, his eyes following her motions.

"Bilbo had asked me to go with him and the dwarves." A flicker of distress appeared on Thranduil's face.

"But I told him that I could not go, because I had made a promise to you. And I do keep my promises."

Thranduil put his hand on his heart in a reverential gesture and her own heart filled with warmth at this sight. "And so do I," he said.

On the way back to her room her mind was spinning with images of flames and shadows. Little had she known that when she set out to confess this was going to bring forth even more unsettling revelations about a dragon and the impending doom of war. It was not Thranduil's initial anger that still gnawed at her heart, but the fact that she had disappointed him and that her rash actions had caused him more trouble than she had anticipated. She had only thought of Bilbo and the dwarves, but the bigger picture had been lost on her. Of course, how should she have known after all? But whatever had been done could not be undone any more. Events had now been set in motion and all she could do now was wait and hope for the best: that she had not actually sent Bilbo and the dwarves to their fiery grave and that war would not find her here in Mirkwood.

To be continued …

Sindarin:

 _Amon Ereb_ \- Erebor

* * *

 _Author's Note: Phew, that was some serious tension in this chapter! Thranduil wasn't pleased, but not all might be lost for Anna in Mirkwood after all. But now things are inevitably going to roll and we'll see what fate has in store for the Elvenking and his human guest..._

 _As always, reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated! Thank you guys :)!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 10^^_


	11. Poetry and Promises

_A BIG thank you once again to all those lovely readers who have reviewed the previous chapter: Raider-K, the Catbird Seat, The Enchanted Stream, earthdragon (Guest), ElectricSheep78, Lydwina Marie, thrndlwood (Guest)!_

* * *

 _Chapter 10 - Poetry and Promises_

Things were different in the palace now. There was a sense of tension and alert premonition permeating the halls of Thranduil that kept Anna on her toes most of the days. The biggest change she noticed was the absence of Legolas and Tauriel who, as she had been told, had gone on a head over heels chase after the dwarves. It turned out that the escape of the dwarves did not go as smoothly as Bilbo had wished for, because they soon had an orc-pack following their trail. What exactly drove the two to follow them was not clear to her, but she strongly suspected that it had something to do with Tauriel's feelings for one of the dwarves.

The fact that both his son and his head of guard had left without his consent put Thranduil in a sour mood and it was best not to tangle with him. Although he never openly showed her any resentment there was a remnant of polite aloofness he displayed towards her. It was not really the fact that he thought her guilty of the dwarves' escape. He knew that they could have possibly managed quite well without her help. It was the bitter aftertaste of the breach of trust that still lay like a thin veil of discomfort in between them both. So she tried her best not to give him another reason to fuel any possible distrust and remained in a position of quiet watchfulness and silent obedience.

The weeks dragged on in days of endless uniformity and even the slow change from autumn to early winter in the Woodland Realm went almost unnoticed as she only caught brief glimpses of the outside world when the gates were opened. The deep red and flaming orange had turned a sickly brown and a dreary grey mist enshrouded the woods that lay beyond the palace. Although the forest did not really look inviting, she had never longed more for a breath of fresh air, even if it were only for a short while.

But now with both Tauriel and Legolas gone her life was even more restricted to the palace. Under the impending danger of war Thranduil surely would not allow her to venture into the forest alone and apparently he only entrusted her safety to those two alone. No one else was allowed to accompany her and if they would they could be sure to incur the king's wrath, which under the given circumstances no one was willing to risk, much less for someone who was not one of their own. The only distractions left were her visits to the library which had lessened as of late, Brethilwen, who continued to be her loyal servant and the brothers Amardir and Faeldir, who kept their good-natured spirits even in times of gloomy anticipation.

* * *

"If you are in need of a remedy against dull afternoons we are ever at your service my lady." With those words Amardir approached her, his younger brother beside him bowing low and joining in "May we offer you some refreshment of the mind with music that also delights the heart?" An exited gleam was in Faeldir's eyes as he went on: "There is a new tune my brother and I have devised and it would be our pleasure if you could be the first one to hear it."

"We named it 'The Lady of the Forest' and it is dedicated to you," Amardir added with a distinct layer of pride in his voice.

A smile spread across her face. "Now you make me blush like a little girl." She linked arms with both of them as she headed towards the small hall she knew was their favourite and said: "I am very honoured and cannot wait to hear it."

"Excellent," they said in unison and Faeldir went on: "We wrote it in your language, so you must bear with the possible imperfections it may have."

It was perfect, at least to her. The song they had created captured in an almost haunting way her life here in the Woodland Realm:

 _Nameless she walks with her spirit so bright._

 _She comes from afar and a secret she holds._

 _Is it the sun that looks for the stars?_

 _Her face shines with joy, but a shadow she bears,_

 _a shadow that darkens her heart._

 _Is it the sun that looks for the stars?_

 _Will the stars lift the shadow, will the sun find the light?_

 _Will she linger forever until her own light shall fade?_

 _Is she the sun in search of her star?_

One could hear a pin drop when they had ended, Amardir still holding on to his flute and Faeldir with the harp in his hands, both of them looking at Anna with expectancy in their eyes.

"Wonderful," was the only thing she could say. She was deeply moved that they had actually written this just for her. "Thank you so much! You don't know how much this means to me."

Both brothers were gleaming with pride and then Faeldir pulled out a small parchment from inside his blue tunic and handed it to her.

"This is for you, the poem. I am sorry that it is only jotted down poorly, but we wrote this on a late night inspiration, so you hopefully will forgive the inelegant form."

"Oh but it is lovely! I will treasure this forever." In a very unelvish way she hugged both brothers one after the other leaving them slightly baffled but nevertheless with a happy grin on their faces.

"The king would not want us to speak to you about your…," Amardir paused in the middle of his sentence looking for the most innocuous words when Faeldir came to the rescue.

"What my dear brother means to say is that we are not supposed to ask you anything about where you come from and who you really are. But you know, he cannot have anything against a little poem." And with a mischievous wink he added: "Maybe it's best if you just keep it to yourself though."

"Yes, I will of course." She folded the parchment and stored it in her pocket together with Thranduil's piece of cloth, raising her total amount of precious possessions to a modest two. "I myself wish I could speak about it, but I am afraid all I have are questions and no answers." And with a shrug she added: "And I have not found anyone who would be able or willing to bring light into that darkness of mine. I only ever get cryptic hints or evasive answers so I have stopped asking." She gave them a resigned smile and added: "At least for now."

"But the king surely must know something about it, after all he has an extensive knowledge of our world and what lies beyond." Faeldir furrowed his brows. "But I assume that now would not be a good moment to bring up this delicate topic, as he is very upset to say the least about Tauriel's disobedience and even his son going against his orders."

She did not wish to elaborate on why she also thought it was best not to bother Thranduil with this now, after all the mess she had made with the dwarves, so she only said: "I will do so when the moment is right." If it will ever come to that, she thought to herself.

"And his mind is now surely also directed towards the Mountain and the dragon," Amardir added, stirring the conversation away from treacherous waters to a safer haven of general small talk.

So they spent the rest of the afternoon in an animated conversation exchanging more or less fanciful theories about how the dwarves would be able to enter the mountain and possibly defeat the dragon. It was a nice time spent in good company.

* * *

But it seemed that nothing was going to happen in Erebor after all.

Until one day a murmur went through the palace that steadily grew into an excited upheaval pervading the air of Thranduil's halls. It did not take her long to find out what had happened, because everyone seemed to be having only one thing on their mind: the dragon was no more, Smaug the terrible had been killed! The further particulars were still unclear, she could grasp only so much that the beast had gone on a rampage burning down a village and then had been shot down and drowned in a lake. There was no word about the dwarves or a hobbit, but the predominant opinion seemed to be that they had all perished in the fire. Not that anyone shed much tears over any of them, it was considered simply an unfortunate side effect of the unwise waking of the dragon. After all Thranduil had foreseen exactly that. Everyone seemed simply relieved that the dragon was no longer a menace to be reckoned with. But the affair was far from resolved, it had now merely shifted to the apparent ownerless treasures still buried deep inside the mountain. And Thranduil did not tarry long in proclaiming that he very much desired his share in the riches of Erebor. She could only surmise what that meant but it was clear to her that the gold would not simply wander into Thranduil's hall on its own, but that this would involve a more or less hostile act of conquest. Even Anna with her limited knowledge of this world could guess that the Elves were not the only ones wanting a share of this legendary treasure. And even if the dragon lived no more, it was naive to assume that the dangerous darkness that Thranduil feared so much had also been eradicated. The impending doom of war was still looming overhead, dampening her spirits.

So she could not really join in the general mood of relief. All she could feel was worry and dread. She had indeed sent Bilbo and the dwarves to their grave! How would she ever be able to forgive herself? Although in the back of her mind there was a small glimmer of hope that maybe they were still alive after all, if they had found the wizard on time and with the help of a series of fortunate events possibly. But it was only a fool's hope after all. And then seeing Thranduil so determined to lay a claim on the riches of this mountain only contributed to her feeling of unease. She had never seen him like that before, it was as if a hidden force was driving him or something of that treasure hoard was pulling him towards it with some inexplicable magic.

That afternoon Brethilwen knocked at her door, the soft spoken voice announcing her welcome presence. Anna had just given up on another more or less successful attempt to redo her braids, which had come undone during the day. With a frustrated sigh she tossed her brush on the table, turned away from the mirror and bade her to come in. Brethilwen bowed and addressed her in her formal voice: "My lady, I bring word from the king. He wishes to see you in his chambers." But upon seeing Anna's worried face she veered towards a caring tone: "Is something the matter? You seem uneasy."

Anna shifted around uncomfortably on her chair, trying to make her voice sound as casual as possible: "I think I am at a loss with these braids of mine. I will never learn the elvish way!" Brethilwen smiled kindly at her as she approached her. "Let me give you a hand with this." She picked up the brush and Anna threw her a nervous glance in the mirror as she stood behind her chair, her hands expertly reaching for the loose strands of Anna's hair. "But I assume that it's not the braids that worry you, am I right?"

It was no use denying, she could read her face like an open book. Anna's green eyes found her grey one's in the mirror and her heart opened up to her. "You are right Brethilwen. All this turmoil of the dragon and the treasure is making me sick. And I worry about the king." She paused, watching for Brethilwen's reaction, but she only displayed curiosity as she worked through Anna's hair.

"Why so?"

"I have been wondering what it is that draws him to the Mountain. I have not seen him like this before. Why would he want all those treasures? There is something that I cannot quite grasp." She added in a sombre tone: "And I fear that bad things might happen."

Brethilwen kept her voice light. "I do not think that you need to worry about the king. He knows very well what he is doing."

"That is not what I meant. I have no reason to doubt his abilities as king." This was harder to put in words than she had anticipated: "It is as if there was something that he wanted to claim."

When Brethilwen had finished with her braids she threw her a satisfied glance in the mirror. "There, you are all set." She rested her hands on Anna's shoulders and leaned forward, her mouth close to her ear: "I daresay there is something of utmost personal value to the king in this mountain that he very much wishes to recover. But what exactly that is, only he may tell you."

This was one of those moments when her response pulled open the floodgates for more questions, but Anna knew that it was no use to keep probing. So she only nodded and then Brethilwen sent her on her way with an encouraging smile. "Well, you better be off then. Don't make the king wait."

* * *

Her uneasiness did not wane on her way to Thranduil's chambers with the whole palace being in an atmosphere of departure. This could not be good. And indeed Thranduil himself seemed to be in an absent mood, his mind already far away from here. He stood in the middle of his room, bent over a piece of parchment that had been spread on one of the bigger tables and that strongly resembled a map of some kind. He furrowed his brows, his eyes following the lines his bejewelled fingers traced on the map. His long velvet cloak of burgundy flowed around him, enveloping him in his usual aura of regal elegance. When he heard her enter the room he looked up, a mixture of preoccupation and gladness in his eyes.

He greeted her politely. "Come in my dear. I will not take up much of your time. But there is something I need to inform you about." His chambers were not quiet like the last time she was here, but there was a busy rush of elves moving about the room with the king's belongings as if they were to be packed away. In a far away corner she even caught a glimpse of perfectly polished black metal gleaming ominously in the twilight like a sinister omen.

His eyes followed her and he bade her to sit down on the familiar half-round bench in the alcove, the small tables in the room now being used as temporary storage for some of Thranduil's personal possessions that were in transit to be stowed in elaborately decorated wooden trunks. Several of them had been placed along the walls, their open lids resembling gaping mouths, ready to devour whatever prey would get caught in their fangs.

"Please excuse the disarray, but you will have noticed that some preparations are taking place in the palace." Thranduil picked up a pile of neatly folded pieces of cloth to hand them to one of the diligent servants, who immediately proceeded with it to the nearest chest and then the king took a seat beside her.

"Yes, I have." She nodded, her level of apprehension rising.

"I am sure it has come to your knowledge that indeed the dragon has been killed, against all odds so it should seem. And now the Mountain lies deserted, but surely this will not last long. If it stays unattended, soon others will come and claim its riches. That is why I am preparing to set out with a company of my trusted warriors towards Erebor. We will depart tomorrow at dawn."

"So soon?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes, of course. If our quest is to be crowned with success, speed is paramount. By now the news of Smaug's death will have spread and we are not the only ones having an eye on that treasure."

"But why is this so important to you? Why would you need more gold and jewels?" she blurted out and added provocatively: "I thought only dwarves and dragons were drawn to hoards of treasure."

Choosing to ignore her unruliness he elaborated in a serious tone: "There are gems in this mountain that I very much desire to reclaim." His eyes trailed off into the distance as if he were restoring an old memory from the depths of his mind. "A necklace of white gems, fashioned into the most wondrous work of art. These are the White Gems of Lasgalen I speak of, famed far and wide for their extravagant splendour. I myself designed a beautiful necklace and gave the gems into the hands of the Dwarven smiths as they are the most gifted amongst all in crafting exquisite jewellery. But when the necklace was finished they withheld it from me. The dwarves themselves wished to keep the treasure that was not theirs to keep. Now that the dwarves are gone and it rests buried deep inside the mountain I finally wish to bring it back into my possession."

This revelation left her only modestly surprised, since she had already assumed something of that kind, having noticed that the king indeed was quite fond of precious stones. The irony that it was actually a necklace crafted by the dwarves was not lost on her. Still she did not quite see the urgency Thranduil displayed in this matter: "I see now why you hold a grudge against the dwarves, but could you not just have someone else fashion a different necklace?" She faced him with a frown: "It seems quite an enormous effort to reclaim one piece of jewellery." Indeed he seemed to be rather preparing to go to war than to retrieve a lost necklace that supposedly lay alone and unguarded in an empty mountain.

Thranduil sighed, seeing as that he would have to elaborate more than he had expected on the motives of his plan. A flicker of impatience crossed his face as the air grew thicker with the constant shuffling of feet and bustling of voices and suddenly he rose from his seat.

"Leave us!" he ordered and all the servants abandoned their busy work and slipped quietly through the door one by one until there was only her and Thranduil left.

After a moment of silence Thranduil sat down again and turned to face her, his voice now solemn. He chose his words carefully:

"Those gems are precious to me beyond measure. Never can or will I ever forget this necklace nor will it ever be replaced." His mind was caught in a far away place. "It was to be a gift for my wife. But she was never granted the joy to wear it."

Anna's heart just drowned in a bucket full of ice, her face a frozen mask as her mouth formed the words "I am so sorry, I did not know." A lump in her throat swallowed whatever else she may have wanted to say.

Upon the sight of pain in her eyes, he resurfaced from his grievous recollections and his voice took on a pleading tone:

"I have to do this. I could not bear the thought of this necklace falling into someone else's hands. For too long has it already been withheld from me. I know that it will never shine upon the breast of the one for whom it was intended, but it is the last thing on this earth that I can do for her. I could not save her from death, but at least I can try to recover what was supposed to be my gift for her." There was a firmness in his voice that would not brook any dissent.

"Yes, of course. Do what you must." She gave him a stiff nod, the demon of jealousy that she had thought defeated once again rearing its ugly head in her heart. "I will be prepared then for tomorrow morning." But the silence that followed told her the bitter truth: she would not be going with him. When she looked up to him there was sorrow in his eyes.

"I am sorry, but there cannot be any other way. It would be too dangerous for you." He was trying to keep his voice calm. "What if we indeed will be facing a war? The darkness has not been conquered yet, only the dragon is gone. I could not guarantee your safety."

"But I do not want to stay behind!" she protested, her chest now firmly in the iron grip of despair. "There is nothing left here for me without you." She felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes as she helplessly ran out of arguments. "And how can you be so sure that I would be safe here when you are gone? And when you are taking your army with you! Please, I promise that I would not be a burden." She added in a small voice: "I just want to stay by your side."

"I assure you that I will not leave you here unguarded." Urgency overran his composure as he spoke: "You must understand. This is something that I must do on my own. Where I am going is not a place for you. I would not want to lead you into peril. It is important to me that you stay here, in safety."

He leaned closer, strands of his hair casually brushing her arm. A wave of goosebumps rolled over her skin and she had to resist the urge to run her fingers through the silken tendrils, feeling their softness against her skin. She wanted to bury her hands in the abundance of his silver blonde cascades as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her head against the hollow of his neck, letting herself fall into his tender embrace. The mere thought of this blissful delight loosened the dreadful noose around her chest, warmth flooding the very corners of her heart. But she could not lose herself in pointless daydreams, least of all now when he had just told her that he was going to leave. She pulled her arm away quickly and searched for his eyes only to find her own longing reflected in them. Suddenly he reached out for her hands, his slender fingers closing softly but with a firm grip around hers.

"Will you promise me to wait for my return?"

The steadfast grip of his hands both sent her heartbeat into a wild frenzy and provided her with a bastion of calm amidst her emotional storm. It took all the leftover remnants of her self-control to keep her voice steady as the warmth of his hands flowed into hers like the tide rolling in and claiming the lonely shores of her desperate heart.

"Can you promise that you will return?"

"I know that you will be waiting for me, so I will return." He ran his thumbs softly across the back of her hands and in his eyes there was sincerity. " _Gweston_."

Never before had he actually addressed her directly like this in Sindarin. She felt her resistance already melting away beneath the magic of his voice and his touch. There was no shield powerful enough in the entire realm that would guard her from the effect that he had on her. If only he knew how she felt. If only she could show him a glimpse of her heart. But the fear of making a wrong move that would push him away from her was paralysing, so she only stared at their entwined hands, unable to move or speak. When finally she forced her eyes away and looked up into his face she found his gaze also resting on her hands, the glimpse of a smile briefly lighting up his face as he took in the sight of her hands fitting perfectly into his. She wished this moment to last forever, but of course she knew that it could not. So she tried her best at putting the worries that were torturing her into meaningful words:

"But how can you know that? How can you be so sure that you will return? What if there is indeed a battle? What if you are …?" Her sentence remained unfinished, the simple thought of losing him stabbing her heart like a knife.

"You will have to trust me on this. It fills my heart with sorrow that I must leave, but I know that I will not rest until I have fulfilled what needs to be done. It will be easier for me if at least I can rest assured that you are out of harm's way."

The imploring tone in his voice tore at her heart and finally she gave him a small nod.

"If this is your wish, then so be it. I will stay here and wait for your return. _Gweston_."

" _Annon allen_." The corners of his lips curled into a grateful smile but a shadow of grief remained in his eyes.

* * *

She barely slept that night, not only because of the bustling noise in the halls of the king, but mainly because of the roaring sea that stormed inside her. In a few hours Thranduil would be leaving the palace with an army that seemed more than ready for combat, the king's mind set to recover what was so precious to him that he was even willing to risk his life for it. She was no fool, after all she knew that Elves could indeed be killed in battle, so even if he had promised her his return, there remained a seed of doubt in her heart. But she was determined not to let it grow and instead would hold on to his words. After all they were all she had left of him while he was gone.

The next morning she did not have the strength to see him off, it would have torn her heart in two. All she wanted to do was hide in her room and fall asleep under as many sheets as possible only to wake up to Thranduil's victorious return. But Brethilwen would not hear of it.

"I know that you wish for the king to stay here." She put her hand on Anna's shoulder as she led her with an energetic stride from her room towards the busy hallways that echoed with a cacophony of sounds, the shuffling of thousands of feet, harsh clatter of metal and the polyphonic humming of exited voices. "But at least you have to go and see the exit of the king's host for yourself. Believe me, my dear, it is a sight to behold."

Anna trotted reluctantly alongside Brethilwen as she took her to one of the narrow bridges that spanned like a small gallery across the widest hallway close to the gates, so she could observe the whole scene from a vantage point.

"Now, here we will stay and watch," and with a scrutinising frown she added "Do not let sadness prevail. If the king promised that he would return, then so it will be." Anna tried to return her encouraging smile, but her mouth only managed something like a crooked caricature of a smile.

"Now look." She pointed at the hallway below that was empty no longer.

It was an impressive sight indeed, the green banner of Thranduil leading on rows upon rows of elvish warriors in their armour of gold and brown with fanned helmets, their chainmail shirts of mottled gold sliding in and out of view as they marched. All of them equipped with expertly crafted longbows, a deadly weapon in the hands of the skilled elvish archers. Quivers filled to the brim with arrows hung from belts around theirs hips, and beautifully decorated long shields they carried in their hands as well as long spears. In the vanguard of his army there was Thranduil, and if ever there was someone worthy of the title knight in shining armour it would have been him. He stood out from everyone else with his regal black armour gleaming in the twilight, the most elegantly fashioned and possibly lethal twin swords sheathed in scabbards on either side of his body, a silver circlet crowning the pale blonde hair and a long dark grey cloak cascading from his shoulders. Anna could not take her eyes off him and Brethilwen gave her a small nudge: "I told you that you had to see this for yourself." She only nodded, her fingers gripping the railing in front of her as the feeling of despair threatened to overcome her again.

As the king reached the gate it was pulled open at his command and the faint grey light of dawn poured into the hallways. Outside she could make out the blurry silhouette of Thranduil's elk patiently awaiting the arrival of his master. "How long will it take them to reach the mountain?"

Brethilwen leaned closer trying to drown out the noise traveling up from below: "The fastest way would be of course by water, but there are not enough rafts or boats for the entire host, so they will have to take the slower way through the forest by foot. But do not forget my lady that we elves are lightfooted and even long marches do not strain us much. And the king has sent a great store of provisions ahead down the river. In a few days time they should already be at the bottom of Erebor."

A glimmer of hope appeared on Anna's gloomy horizon. "So maybe they will be able to come back soon?"

"Hopefully yes, if all goes well." Brethilwen put on her most confident smile, but Anna's attention was drawn to Thranduil as he lingered for a moment at the open gate and suddenly turned around, his eyes searching for her. When he had found her he raised his hand to his heart to bid her farewell. She was too far away to read the expression on his face, but his gesture alone filled her heart with affection. She reciprocated his motions and whispered " _Navaer, Aran nín_."

And then the moment was gone and Thranduil turned around resolutely and passed through the gate, followed by his host and soon was out of her sight, swallowed by the early morning mist that lay on the forest like a shroud. She did not wish to linger any longer and bade Brethilwen to walk her back to her room. She did not object and as they made their way down from the gallery through the labyrinthine hallways there was still an incessant stream of elves heading towards the gate, so they took one of the smaller corridors back. Finally they reached the quiet area leading to the king's chambers and her room and Brethilwen left her at her door.

"It is still very early in the morning. Maybe you wish to rest now for a while? I will be back around midday if this is all right with you?"

"Yes, that is fine," she agreed, feeling the lack of last night's sleep taking its toll on her now.

"Very well then." She held the door for her and bade her good bye.

Once more her bed welcomed her with what she hoped would be a few hours of blissful oblivion. She pulled the sheets up to her chin, the image of Thranduil bidding her farewell both warming and crushing her heart. It seemed to her that once the gates would close behind Thranduil and his elven host all her hopes would go with him, leaving her empty heart behind in the dreadful darkness of uncertainty.

What if he never came back? There would be nothing left for her here. And she had nowhere else to go.

To be continued …

Sindarin:

 _Gweston_ \- I promise

 _Annon allen_ \- Thank you

 _Navaer_ \- Farewell

 _Aran nín_ \- my king

* * *

 _Author's Note: So, Thranduil is gone and Anna will have to stay behind at the palace. How will that work out? We'll see, but I predict trouble on the horizon..._

 _And in case you are into music: as a birthday gift my husband composed a **song** for me based on Amardir & Faeldir's poem called **Nameless Lady**. __You can find the direct link to **Youtube** in my Profile!_

 _As always: favs, follows and reviews are very welcome :)!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 11^^_


	12. Father and Sons

_Thank you to all those nice people who have left reviews on the preceding chapter: thrndlwood, Lydwina Marie, ElectricSheep78, Guest, the Catbird Seat, Raider-K!_

* * *

 _Chapter 11 - Fathers and Sons_

The heavy stone doors of Thranduil's palace swung open wide, the crisp morning air greeting the king's face as he emerged from the darkness and strode out into the open, his bearing proud and unyielding, a tall figure towering over everyone else and impeccable to look upon, a true king in every way. His perfectly composed appearance would not reveal the emotional tempest that raged beneath this shining armour of his. His jaw clenched a little too tight, his lips firmly pressed together, it all could simply pass as utmost determination of a leader, who was mentally preparing himself to go to war. Only the slightest flicker of sorrow in his eyes gave away, that beneath all that self-restraint there was an anxious heart desperately fighting its own battle.

He knew that what he had set out to do was the right thing, head for the Mountain and reclaim his wife's memento. In fact it was his only choice. He owed her that much and he knew that he would not be at peace until he had fulfilled this last duty. Only then would he ever truly be worthy of forgiveness. Maybe then he would finally find it in his heart to forgive himself for not having been there when his wife had needed him the most.

The door to his redemption had been timidly pushed open when he had granted Anna a glimpse into this black pit of grief that resided in the deepest corners of his heart. It had since then been left ajar and a small ray of hope shone through the narrow crack of the otherwise perfectly polished and virtually impenetrable shell that sealed away his emotions. Her heartfelt words had eased his tormented soul, bringing him just one small step closer to making peace with what he dragged along with him as his failures of his past.

An endlessly long past that still stretched ever unending into an unknown future.

The hint of a smile flickered across his face when his eyes were drawn to the elk, his loyal companion for so many years, waiting patiently for him in the early morning mist. Thranduil's cloak swayed softly around him as he crossed the terrace, his gait determined and his thoughts now focused on getting his army in motion. He did not look back again, his mind set on the Mountain and his heart longing for the gems of his beloved wife.

His warriors filed in organised rows through the gate behind him, an endless stream of archers and spearmen pouring out into the open and filling the quiet forest with a bustling noise rarely heard these days. Armours were adjusted, weapons inspected, provisions loaded, making sure that the elvish host would not only reach the Mountain and recover the Queen's necklace, but also fight a battle if needed and hopefully come out of it victorious and then make it back with as little losses and as much treasures as possible.

Thranduil gave his elk an encouraging pat as he reached for the reins when Feren, who was overseeing the final preparations, approached the king with a courteous nod: "My lord, everything shall be ready as soon as you wish to give the order to set out."

"Very well," said Thranduil, giving a last securing tug to his elk's saddle, "the sooner the better, for I wish to make haste. The message of Smaug's death now surely travels swiftly, so we must be swifter still."

"Yes, my lord. I will see to it." With another nod he turned away from Thranduil, busying himself with the last bits that required his attention and making sure the king's orders were obeyed right down to the last detail.

"So we ride out once more _mellon_." The elk bowed its head low, leaning into Thranduil's hands so he could stroke the thick brown fur in between the antlers. A smile dawned on Thranduil's face as he felt the warmth beneath his fingers. "I know you like that," he said softly, allowing his hands to glide slowly along the animal's forehead down to the nostrils and receiving a joyful nod in response. Thranduil brought his face closer to the elk's head, who watched him through his trusting brown eyes, and murmured: "I promise you that when we return from this quest, you will be relieved of your duties. You have served me long enough and you shall live out the rest of your days in peace." The elk gave him a disgruntled snort, but Thranduil would not hear of it.

"It is what I say, and there will be no complaint from you," he said with an amused smile, "besides, you are getting too old for war, the glades of the forest with their lush grass in spring will be a better place for you than any battlefield." With a final glance into the animal's humble eyes Thranduil reached out for the saddle-horn and made for the stirrups and in one swift motion he was securely seated upon his elk. The reins in hand and with another slow stroke along the elk's neck he said: "But let us not tarry any longer, so we might indeed reach the Mountain before everyone else does."

With that he gave the order to set in motion and his company followed suit in crowded rows of four, the Elvenking's green banner waving behind him in the wintry breeze and soon the vanguard of his army disappeared into the dark green mouth of the forest.

Despite his determination Thranduil set out for Erebor with a heavy heart.

More than once he had questioned his choice of leaving Anna behind, but he had not been able to overcome his fear of putting her in danger and the possibility of losing her. This would not happen to him again. He would not allow it. The look on her face when he had told her that she would not be coming with him had almost broken his heart, but if he lost her to death his heart would never be able to feel anything ever again. All he wanted to do was to protect her, but all he ever did was push her away from him and causing her pain in the end, he thought to himself grimly.

Doubts about the rightfulness of his wish to keep her near him had resurfaced many times. Yes, she had agreed to stay out of her own free will and he had seen the affection in her eyes. But after all: what choice did she have? She had nowhere else to go so it might have not just been out of her alleged feelings for him that she stayed. Maybe she just wanted a safe place while she figured out how to get back to her old life? Maybe she would run away the moment an opportunity presented itself? What if by leaving her behind, he had just offered her a chance to escape?

* * *

Trying to fill his mind with thoughts that would be less gloomy the image of Legolas arose before his inner eye and a wave of affection rushed through him at the prospect of a possible reunion with his son, now that he was heading towards the Mountain. A wave that towered up only to break against the wall of regret that filled his heart at having parted in discord. He only ever wished to be a good father, but it seemed that the tight grip of his obligations would not allow it. The responsibilities as king weighed him down as he strove ever tirelessly to keep his kingdom out of trouble, but then his son had seemingly gotten carried away by Tauriel's enthusiasm to rid all of Middle-earth from evil. And now both of them were gone, leaving behind an angered and even more lonesome king.

More than once his son had tentatively approached him, but too many times Thranduil had shown him just the unrelenting facade of a king.

Once though things had been different.

"I just want you to be happy Ada," his son had said to him, seeing a spark in his father's eyes that had not been there in so many years no one even had bothered counting them. "You do not always have to be only the King, you know," Legolas had dared push further as he did not feel his father pulling up his usual icy wall of resistance he so much strove to uphold. Thranduil had only raised his eyebrow in slight surprise.

"Don't give me that look Ada. I know you better than what you think. I see how you torture yourself trying to remain inside that pit of misery you have made for yourself. Grant yourself that little bit of happiness." Legolas had leaned casually against the column in the king's chambers while he had watched his father staring into the glittering turquoise surface of the water, the steady purling of the fountain filling the air.

"It is not as easy as you might think _Iôn nín_ ," Thranduil had elaborated, his gaze still fixed on the soft ripples. "The little bit of happiness as you like to call it is not mine to take."

A deep sigh had underlined the finality of his statement and when at last Thranduil had looked up to meet his son's eyes the striking likeness with his mother had pierced Thranduil's heart with both joy and agony. Everything in Legolas reminded him of her. From the delicate sweep of his brow and the elegant curve of his cheekbone to the sweetness of his smile and the candour in his voice. And his eyes, though crystal blue just like his own, carried within them her gentleness. She was here but still forever gone.

"I already once have been granted happiness, and I lost it. I cannot ask for it again," he had said, struggling to remain calm in the face of the sorrows of his past.

But Legolas would not leave it there. His father's insistence on turning away with unwavering precision from what could bring him joy was excruciating. Pity had stirred inside his heart at the sight of his father, weary and tired of this endless battle he had been fighting inside him, and something needed to be done about it.

"But Ada, you are the king, it lies in within your power to do as you see fit. Who else but you would have the power to change the rules if not you yourself?" Legolas had kept pushing his point further, hoping for at least a subtle crack in his father's ring of defence.

"You seem to forget that not everything can be bent to our will for it to be as we would wish for. The past cannot be undone and the course of the future must not be altered. There are certain things that go even beyond my powers and things that are not to be tampered with."

Thranduil had furrowed his brow and given his son a stern look, but the soft voice of Legolas had not gotten tired to point out to Thranduil the doors that lied before him. He just needed to push them open instead of remaining inside the prison he had constructed for himself.

"Ada, can you not see it? There is not only a past but also a future. And she is the key and you know it." Legolas had stepped closer and looked directly into his father's eyes and there had been assurance in his voice: "Why else do you think she has been sent here?"

Thranduil had met his son's gaze with astonishment, his blue eyes a mirror of his own, but with the fire of youth that had not yet been dimmed by the trials of time. With a frown Thranduil had inquired: "And what would you know about that?" before reaching for his glass of wine and taking a seat, inviting his son to do the same.

Legolas had gladly joined his father, seeing as this might be a moment of unexpected openness in between both of them.

It had taken another encouraging glance from his father to loosen his tongue: "Nothing really to be honest. But I do not think that she has come here by chance."

Thranduil had only nodded silently, but said nothing.

"Ada —," For a moment Legolas had hesitated: "Is there anything you know about her that you are not telling me?"

* * *

"Well, there are many things," Thranduil elaborated with a knowing glance in Faeldir's direction, "this Mountain is full of riches, fabled gems, piles of gold and precious jewels more than what one could carry. Surely beyond anything your young eyes have ever seen." With satisfaction he took notice of the look of awe on Faeldir's face, who now turned to his brother: "See, it will have been worth for us to have come on this quest after all."

Amardir responded with a tense smile that did not escape Thranduil's attention as the two brothers prepared alongside their king and the whole company for a short night's rest after the first leg of their journey. Galion, the king's butler, busied himself with the gathering of food and plates that needed to be set in place for a proper mealtime, while Elros of the Mirkwood guard had been charged with taking care of Thranduil's elk before he would join the meal.

Merry fires had been set up, the soft sound of elven-harps and sweet singing already filling the cool night air. When everyone had found a place to take in their light meals, Thranduil addressed Amardir directly: "Is there something you wish to tell me Amardir?"

Amardir looked up from his plate and when he saw not only the king's questioning eyes on him, but also his brother's, as well as Feren, Galion and Elros turning their heads his way, he for once wished not to be considered high enough in rank to be sharing his mealtime with the king, but rather be with the other common elves that were scattered around in huddled groups, taking in their meals, or joining in the various tunes that wafted harmoniously through the forest.

"No, my lord." He shook his head and busied himself with his slice of bread, but Faeldir could not contain himself, seeing the look of doubt on Thranduil's face.

"What my brother means to say is that he now has nothing more to say against us coming along." He nodded fervently as he shoved another grape into his mouth.

Amardir threw his brother an exasperated look, knowing that he now would have to explain himself to the king. And indeed, Thranduil leaned slightly forward, his gaze wandering from Faeldir in his youthful enthusiasm to Amardir, who clenched his jaw in uncomfortable tension, having been so blatantly exposed by his brother.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes and after taking a sip of wine he inquired: "Tell me Amardir what it is that troubles you. I am your king and I have a right to know. You must not hide anything from me."

Faeldir shrugged apologetically with a lopsided grin on his face as his brother let out an audible sigh and suddenly everything around them went silent. Elros had lowered his plate into his lap and Galion had even forgotten to chew, both in curious expectation, and Feren was watching Thranduil out of the corner of his eye with anxious anticipation.

"My lord, I ask you not to take any offence in my words, for they are not meant to offend, but are simply heartfelt concerns I have expressed towards my little brother." He raised his hand to silence Faeldir, who was ready to mouth a protest at being addressed in front of the king as 'little brother'.

"That will depend on the nature of your words," Thranduil responded cooly.

It took Amardir a moment to collect himself, but then his eyes held the king's gaze and he raised his chin, the fire sending flickering shadows across his face and a warm orange gleam on his smooth dark brown hair.

"Ever have I been responsible for my brother since the untimely death of our father and the unfortunate departure of our beloved mother." He paused for a moment, watching out for a possible reaction from Thranduil. But the king remained unmoved, simply waiting for Amardir to continue.

"You must forgive me if I seem to go far afield, but the well-being of my brother is paramount to me and I would go to any lengths to protect him."

"But I do not need to be protected, I can fend very well for myself," Faeldir protested, slightly embarrassed by being treated like a helpless elfling in front of the king and his warriors.

Thranduil gave him a benevolent nod. "Yes, of course you can. But please do not interrupt your brother, for I very much long to know what else he has to say."

Faeldir fell silent and stared blankly at the plate in his hands like a misbehaved child while his brother continued with his elaborations.

"His youth does not allow him to consider this quest in all its bearings. He believes it to be a simple treasure hunt, which it is not. And even if it were so: treasures are rarely recovered without sacrifice and loss. And more often than not the price we pay is too high and our only gains are pain and sorrow, which will be our inseparable companions for the rest of our lives."

When he ended there was a moment of silence, Galion and Elros exchanging uncomfortable glances and Feren straightening himself, ready to intervene should the necessity arise.

Thranduil seemed to ponder the meaning of Amardir's words before responding quietly: "So you mean to say that you do not deem my quest just?"

"If you wish to put it into such straightforward words, my lord, yes." Amardir crossed his arms in front of his chest, defiance written all over his face.

Breaths were drawn in and one could have heard a pin drop if it wasn't for the crackling of firewood as all eyes went from Amardir, now a shade paler after this bold statement, to Thranduil, who was assessing him curiously, a challenging gleam in his eyes.

"Your openness is quite daring, but it does not surprise me, Amardir. You might not have been in my service for as long as others, but you are in so many ways your father's son. Fearless like he was, but an ever cautious advisor."

Amardir responded with a scrutinising look, not quite sure if this remark was merely a criticism in disguise.

"And what would be wrong with being cautious?" Amardir added rather tight-lipped.

"Nothing, nothing at all." With a slight inclination of his head Thranduil continued: "But say, my dear Amardir, if you were my advisor, what would you have me rather do? Leave the treasures of Erebor for anyone else to take? Leave everything to the dwarves, should they have survived, which I very much have reason to doubt?" He raised his eyebrows as he threw these rhetorical questions at Amardir. "The men of Lake-town will be next to lay claim and believe me, word of the dragon's death has spread far beyond our lands already. So it is only a matter of time until the riches of this Mountain will have far too many contenders, all of them wishing to come into Smaug's inheritance." He leaned forward, his eyes on fire. "And make no mistake, I will not stand by idly and watch as someone else will lay their filthy hands on my late wife's necklace!" He pointed a bejewelled finger in Amardir's direction: "You of all people should understand the importance of this quest."

The waves of his emotions threatened to shatter the surface of his perfectly composed self, old wounds still so painfully fresh, his heart bleeding as the sensation of loss dragged him into the abyss of loneliness and despair. But his gaze revealed none of that, for he would not lightly show his wounds to the world. A haughty look was all that Amardir saw, inciting him to challenge his king yet once again.

"My lord, I beg your pardon, but I daresay that I have every reason to have my doubts about the benefits of reclaiming jewellery, for nothing good has ever come from the desire for precious stones." He pushed his chin forward, the wild gleam in his eyes nearly matching the king's. Feren's eyes widened in dawning shock and he grabbed his plate a little too tight, sensing the possibility of an angry outburst from his king nearing at a brisk pace.

But Thranduil remained calm, for he knew inside his heart that even he had been harbouring doubts about the necessity of this endeavour. Doubts he would barely admit to himself, because it felt too much like he was questioning his own ability as a leader and as someone who took the right decisions. Decisions that would usually go unchallenged by his people. He knew that they would follow him to whatever end, just like Elhadron, the father of Amardir and Faeldir, had done.

"I know that you blame me for your father's death." Thranduil only raised a finger to stop Amardir before he could respond. Thus put to silence by the king he closed his mouth reluctantly and swallowed his answer. "Don't object. I know you do, you always have." Thranduil's gaze was lost in the flames for a moment before he looked up again, the orange fire burning through the crystal blue.

It was now Faeldir who took a stand, rushing to his brother's aid: "My lord, could we please leave our father out of this?" The flames imparted him an unusually fierce appearance, his soft features hardened as he pressed his lips together, withstanding Thranduil's gaze in youthful stubbornness.

Thranduil seemed to study Faeldir's face for a moment, considering his demand. And what he saw in the eyes of this young elf was his own reflection, broken and torn apart by the ruthlessness of death that had deprived him of his own father Oropher when he was just a young prince. Emptiness and helplessness had taken him on the battlefield of Dagorlad, for death had not only robbed him of his father, but had cut down so many of their loyal warriors, that the seed of despair had begun to take root in his heart. But underneath the suffocating shadow there had been also a faint glimmer of hope to which he had to persuade himself to turn to and despite the uneven odds he had risen to be the leader who he had been born to be.

But where to was he leading his people now? A war to reclaim a piece of jewellery? Gems of purest starlight that were beautiful beyond imagination but nevertheless empty and cold, never again to be filled with life.

Was he being unreasonable?

"My lord?" Feren's thin voice cut through the king's thoughts as well as the dense silence. He turned towards Thranduil, who was still staring at Faeldir, the young elf shifting restlessly with his half eaten meal in front of him, convinced now that his interjection had definitely been misplaced and preparing for a possible reprimand. He shot his brother an apologetic glance, but Amardir had his eyes on Thranduil, the tension in the air palpable just like one anticipates the deafening rumble of thunder after a lightning has struck the earth.

Thranduil nodded slowly, his thoughts far away from the fireplace as his heart relived once more the horrors of his own battlefields and when he resurfaced from the shadows of his past there was sadness in his eyes and his voice was devoid of all harshness when he addressed Faeldir in an almost fatherly tone: "I understand that you do not wish to be reminded of your father's absence, and in the light of your youthful rashness I will let your insolence pass, but do not forget that you are facing your king who knows the void of death all too well."

Faeldir lowered his gaze ruefully, his words now nearly a mumbled whisper: "Yes, my lord. I am sorry, I did not mean to anger you with my words. It is just that our father's death is ever too present in our lives." When he looked up again, he had to control his urge to pour out his heart to the king, who was still watching him with a distinct glance of empathy in his eyes.

"So, let us now no longer speak of what brings us sadness, but of what might bring us joy." With this Thranduil brought the conversation to an end before it would wander on to more dangerous paths and sighs of relief traveled around the fireplace as everyone relaxed in their places.

* * *

Thranduil took another sip of wine and over the rim of his cup he watched the flickering flames and their golden sparks flying upwards and dancing in the darkness like fireflies. And his eyes went around the faces as everyone resumed their meals and slowly the subdued conversations grew more animated, even Feren loosening his usual restraint and allowing himself a half-smile at the various jokes that were brought forth by Galion and Elros, the wine that had been brought along starting to show its effect. Only the two brothers were slow in joining in, but eventually their jovial nature prevailed and the wine washed the tension off their faces.

At last Thranduil rose his voice again, gesturing amiably at Amardir and Faeldir: "Why don't you delight us with one of your works of art? It has been brought to my attention that you have been withholding a certain new poem from me."

Thranduil's eyes bore into Faeldir's, who almost dropped his cup of wine and shot his brother a puzzled look. Although equally perplexed, it took Amardir only a moment to regain his wits and he responded cordially with a slight inclination of his head: "Yes of course my lord, it will be our pleasure to perform our newest creation for you."

Voices were dimmed to a hush as Faeldir rummaged in his bag to pull out his harp which was his trusted companion at all times. While Amardir prepared his flute, Faeldir addressed the king: "My lord, this song is called 'The Lady of the Forest' and I daresay it speaks for itself." And with those words the brothers began their performance:

 _Nameless she walks with her spirit so bright._

 _She comes from afar and a secret she holds._

 _Is it the sun that looks for the stars?_

 _Her face shines with joy, but a shadow she bears,_

 _a shadow that darkens her heart._

 _Is it the sun that looks for the stars?_

 _Will the stars lift the shadow, will the sun find the light?_

 _Will she linger forever until her own light shall fade?_

 _Is she the sun in search of her star?_

Faeldir's clear singing voice trailed through the forest, carried by softly strung chords on his harp and the sweet and melancholy sighs of Amardir's flute. From within the woven melodies Anna's image rose in Thranduil's mind. The high ring of her laughter when Amardir and Faeldir entertained her with their jokes rang in his ear. A small smile played around his mouth when he thought on how much he adored those freckles that spread like golden sprinkles from her nose over her cheeks and the way those cheeks flushed bright red when he caught her looking at him.

But also with it came a concoction of feelings, a painful amalgam of desire and guilt that had been brewing inside him for weeks; no, not just weeks.

If he was completely honest to himself it had taken hold of him already the moment her eyes had met his under the tree that fateful day back when summer had gingerly begun to make way for autumn's saturated beauty. The way her gaze had simply broken through all his shields had frightened and elated him, awakening feelings he had deemed long forgotten. And when she had so defiantly stood up to him after that memorable banquet, her face heated and her eyes glaring, it was like a summer storm sweeping through his solemn halls and his ancient heart, a fresh breeze where everything had been stagnant for way too long. Something had shattered inside him that day, making way for something else to take root in its stead. But the gnawing sensations of dishonesty and selfishness had threatened to choke the tender sapling with their poisonous venom, depriving it of the redemptive light it so desperately longed for.

He had done everything he thought was right, but turned out quite the opposite: he had offered her his help should she wish to return to her world, he had ordered her to stay, softening it later to a heartfelt wish, had scorned her for her unduly meddling in his affairs with the dwarves, finally more or less pushing her into agreeing that she would stay behind while he went on his quest to the Lonely Mountain. How could he expect affection from her, when all he did was keeping her at a distance? But he had also opened up his heart to her about the sorrow that still lived within him, the shadow of darkness that ever lingered on his soul and he had shown her how much it meant to him that she would remain in safety and wait for his return.

Still, there were things he knew, or at least things he suspected and had not told her. After all she was not the first human to enter his realm from what the elves called the other side. Not because he withheld them from her with bad intention, for he only wished that she might stay with him instead of choosing to return to her former life. Uncountable times his mind had drifted back to that moment when he had almost kissed her, her eyes blindfolded, her hair a mess and her lips trembling in anticipation as he had approached them slowly with his own. It had taken all his self-restraint not to give in to the sudden overwhelming desire to draw her into a passionate kiss.

Since that moment he had been trying to keep his feelings for her under control and locked inside, but ruling a kingdom proved to be easier than to navigate the treacherous waters that were his emotions. He still felt committed to his wife, who, although long gone from this world, still remained ever alive in his heart. And the insurmountable difficulties barring a possible relationship between an Elvenking and a mortal woman, weighed even heavier on his already troubled heart. It was against all rules, rules he held in high esteem and he had never considered breaking himself. Only pain and suffering ever came from such unnatural unions.

Even if he would give in to his feelings, it would eventually lead only to more grief in the end, having to let go once again someone he loved, death being the inevitable fate of all humans. And he would have to linger on endlessly, being forever alone again.

All this had flashed before his inner eye and even when the music had ended and silence had once more descended on the circle around the fire, he was still with his thoughts gone. Only when Feren coughed politely did he finally stir, bestowing a benign smile on the two artists, a look of relief dawning on the brother's faces as they lowered their instruments and appreciative nods were directed at them.

With a wave of his hand Thranduil gestured at both of them: "Lovely! You should not have hidden this gem from me. I see that our human guest has made quite an impression on both of you."

Faeldir and Amardir exchanged curious glances, unsure as to what to make of their king's statement.

"Yes, my lord, she has, and I only wish that happiness might finally turn towards her and find her." Faeldir's open gaze met Thranduil's eyes with unspoken words.

"And what am I to make of that?" Thranduil drew out his question purposefully, his eyes gleaming bright beneath the night sky.

Amardir answered in his brother's stead: "It means that treasures are sometimes found in unlikely places."

And with a court bow he rose from his place, bidding himself and his brother to be excused so they could prepare their bed for the night.

Thranduil dismissed them with a small nod, draining his cup of wine and granting himself a short night's rest, for much of their journey lay still ahead of them.

* * *

Uneventful passed the next day of their journey, flocks of birds, big and small, crows and carrion birds gathered thick about them, fluttering and circling way above the treetops, in anticipation of an opulent reward should war be indeed the final destination of the elvish host.

As they made camp to rest for a short while during the following night, unannounced albeit not completely unexpected visitors presented themselves before the Elvenking. Messengers they were from Bard who had taken the lead after the Master of Lake-town had given preference to taking his own leave rather than burn or drown alongside his people.

They had been sent swiftly up the river for help was sorely needed and they were glad to find the elvish host already on the move.

Thranduil bade them step forward once the three stout men had disembarked from their barge, an echo of terror still lingering on their grief-stricken faces. They bowed deeply and then the eldest approached Thranduil with due deference as the king beckoned him to speak up. He was a wiry middle-aged man with a weathered face whose appearance spoke of days of agility long gone, his hair as grey as his beard and his patched-up clothes rather ragged and not much different from his younger companions'. For the people of Esgaroth were mainly fishermen and due to their Master's widely unpopular heavy taxation all of them had been left with much less in their pockets as well as their stomachs as they would have wished for.

"My lord Thranduil, we bring word from Bard of Lake-town as our town has fallen victim to the wrath of the great dragon Smaug and as your servants we humbly beg you for your help. Most of our people have lost their homes as well as their modest belongings, many have perished in the fire or drowned in the waters of the lake. Our children, the elderly and the weak are surely doomed to die first in these harsh conditions, for the winter is before us and we are left with nothing. Please, great Elvenking Thranduil, will you help us in our need?"

He bowed again deeply when he had ended and his two companions followed suit dutifully. They had lingered behind and only dared to glance stealthily at the king, the look of awe painted on their faces when they found themselves for the first time in their young lives so close to the fabled Elvenking, a fact that had seemed completely unheard of until just a few days ago. Of course back then also the event of having their town razed to the ground by an angry dragon had been considered an old wives' tale at best, but not something that would indeed ever come to pass during their lifetime.

"My good men," Thranduil addressed the three messengers, opening his arms in a generous gesture. "Do not despair. You have suffered much and your losses are great, but help shall be given to those in need." He tilted his head sideways, a benevolent smile on his face and a look of relieve and gratitude simultaneously dawning on the three faces, immediately followed by another set of deeps bows.

"Thank you, thank you, my lord," the elder one was the first to find his voice. "We are forever grateful for your kindness and surely my Master will be ready to make any bargain you might wish for the future in return for such generous aid."

"Very well, this shall be decided in due time." Thranduil gestured towards Galion to have brought forth food and drink for the messengers, seeing their starved and rather worn out looks on their faces. "I would ask you to join us tonight as we camp, but I have reason to assume that you are moving with haste and wish to return as fast as possible to your Master."

As he spoke, two elves stepped forward, carrying well packed baskets with food and bringing along a small barrel of wine, all of which were received by the three men of Lake-town with grateful smiles and brought about even deeper bows and many hastily murmured thank-you's in low and husky voices.

"We are forever in your debt," began the elder man again. "And yes, indeed, you know our plight quite well. We have been instructed to return with help as soon as we could. Knowing that aid is already on the way will surely lighten up the hearts of our people." He looked up to Thranduil who had remained his usual composed and nearly motionless self all the while and was now with a lazy wave of his hand indicating for the barge to be loaded with more food to assuage the direst need until he and his host would be arriving in Lake-town.

Once the barge had been fully loaded and safely sent on its way back to Lake-town by the elves, Thranduil gave orders to his people that in light of this new development it was best to make haste and reduce their nightly rest to the absolute minimum.

And so it came to pass that in the dead of night, the Elvenking's host hurried at great speed towards the ruins of Esgaroth, providing help being now paramount.

The Mountain would have to wait. And so could the gems.

To be continued …

Sindarin:

 _mellon_ \- friend

 _Iôn nín_ \- my son

* * *

 _Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter and the insight we get into Thranduil's heart. The story will now alternate in between Anna's and Thranduil's POV as they will be treading on separate paths for a while. I really enjoy writing Thranduil's POV, as he is such an intriguing and multi-faceted character to explore._

 _Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 12^^!_


	13. Gone

_A BIG thank you to those 2 lovely people who have reviewed the previous chapter: thrndlwood and Lydwina Marie!_

* * *

 _Chapter 12 - Gone_

It took several days for the realisation to sink in that Thranduil was indeed gone. At first Anna was in denial and pretended that he was still there, just somehow out of sight, and she tried to uphold her normal daily routine. But day by day it was harder to actually fool herself and she had to accept her own folly. The king was gone and with him almost half of the population of the palace and the Woodland Realm. Besides Thranduil himself, Legolas and Tauriel, who had been away for several weeks already, she missed Faeldir and Amardir the most, after all they had been the sweetest and most charming companions for countless afternoons. She had not even had a chance to say good bye to them, which made their absence even more aggrieving. What if they never returned? She carried their poem with her wherever she went, a crumpled piece of paper in the depths of her pocket, just like she did with Thranduil's cloth. The halls were eerily quiet and the few voices that remained were hushed and rather subdued as the days dragged on with no news from the Mountain. Although she assumed that at least no news meant good news and that Thranduil was still alive, but the uncertainty was slowly but steadily draining her emotionally.

Countless times her feet carried her up to the same gallery where she had watched Thranduil bid her farewell, reliving this last moment over and over again and always hoping for the gates to be pulled open and on a wave of bright light seeing the figure of Thranduil return in victory. But the gates remained shut and no light and no king were anywhere in sight.

Miserable was how she felt, as if her heart had been torn out and replaced by an empty shell that still kept her alive but had no life in it. She barely slept and skipped food more than once and if Brethilwen had not insisted that she get up and eat she would have spent her days in bed waiting for doom to befall.

A shadow crept into the emptiness of her heart, sneaking in like a stealthy thief and settling inside with the poison of doubt. First it was just a small voice in the back of her head, scorning her for being a fool and having stayed behind, when she really should have ignored all orders and simply sneaked somehow into Thranduil's army. Although it was totally unclear to her how on earth she should have managed that. But the voice steadily raised its volume and kept insisting that she would not see Thranduil again if she just stayed in Mirkwood and waited for him like she had promised.

The fact that she had now so little distraction from her dark thoughts did not help in lifting her spirit. On the contrary, it rather encouraged her dwelling on all the possible heart-wrenching scenarios her mind could come up with. She had become an expert in picturing Thranduil's violent death in all its mind-boggling variations. Images of fierce battles and deadly combat tortured her head and always, always there was the moment when she saw Thranduil being pierced by one of the orc's filthy scimitars, his limp body being pulled down without mercy from his elk and dragged through the muddy battleground by those evil creatures and then —, then she forced her mind to stop. She refused to think the unthinkable, she would not allow this to happen. That is what she told herself. And for a while it worked, but not for long. Her imagination was her worst enemy after all. She had no experience in wars of any kind but she had read enough depressing recollections in the library to have a quite clear idea of the merciless slaughter that was war. Death took, regardless of age or status, Men, Dwarves and even Elves. After all that had been the fate of Oropher and Thranduil must have known very well the danger he was walking into.

And then still another feeling grew inside her heart, although she tried hard to keep it down and quiet. But it would not shut up, no matter how skilfully she tried to play deaf and its venom crept on and on until all the hopes that she thought safe in her heart were overshadowed by doubt. Jealousy was back with a triumphant return shaking hands with despair and a firm determination to bring her down and shatter the trust she had put in his promise. If Thranduil truly had feelings for her he would not have left her behind, it whispered in her head. And if the recovery of this necklace meant so much to him that he was even willing to risk his own life for it there could be no doubt as to whom his heart truly belonged. She scorned herself for her delusion of having thought that she could ever have a space in the Elvenking's heart. After all, what were a few weeks in comparison with the endless eternity that was his lifetime? But then if she listened really closely there was still another timid voice in her heart whispering words of confidence. And there were Thranduil's eyes looking at her with affection and his hands reaching out for hers and their warmth filling her heart with the promise of his return. But those patches of clear skies lessened as the days of loneliness grew longer and the clouds of dread thickened.

And so the shadows closed in on her from all sides and the darkness found its way into her heart. She had her own war to fight, alone and defenceless, and slowly but surely she was driven into a dark corner that was a dead end. And the only way to avoid defeat seemed to take the offensive. Otherwise she would go mad with the infernal trio of despair, uncertainty and jealousy.

From the various seeds of doubt, watered so devotedly by her heart's despair, there grew a plan in her mind. First it was only the tender sapling of a very vague idea, but over the course of the next week it blossomed into a vigorous sprout that she nourished and cherished with a passionate dedication. And then everything was clear to her:

She had to go after Thranduil and find him. It was the only way.

She could not bear the waiting and the uncertainty any more and her heart would not be able to hold her caged emotions any longer. If she did not want to be devoured by her own despair then searching for the one she loved was the only option. She needed clarification and she was going to get it, either way or another.

Once she had made up her mind there was no more going back.

* * *

Finally she felt that she could break out of the prison of lethargy that had held her captive since Thranduil's departure and her spirit rose with the anticipation of being able to be close to him again. New life filled her heart and there was a glimmer of hope on her dim horizon.

The only thing that pained her heart about it was that she could not share her giddy anticipation with Brethilwen, after all she was the last confidant that remained by her side. But she knew that if she told her about her plans Brethilwen would try everything in her power to dissuade her from her scheme. After all Anna would be breaking her promise to the king if she proceeded with this. But she pushed that thought to the very back of her head, she liked thinking of it more as her own quest, its purpose being to find Thranduil or perishing in the attempt to get to him. She could not stand idly by while he might be facing death in battle. After all she had nothing to lose. She had no home and nowhere else to go, Thranduil was the one thing that kept her heart beating in this strange world.

She needed to act cunningly if she was going to go through with her plan, it was paramount that no one found out about it, because surely Thranduil had left everyone instructed that she was not to leave the palace under any circumstances. So her preparations had to be carried out carefully, not attracting any unwanted attention. Her mind was racing with all the steps that needed to be taken into account. She had to travel light, because it would be too obvious if anyone saw her walking around like a pack mule. But since it was winter, she needed appropriate clothing, food and water was equally important, maybe she could even snatch a knife or dagger to carry with her. She was by no means a fighter, but a small weapon was better than none at all. After all these woods were dangerous and full of strange creatures. And last but not least she would need a map. This was by far the easiest task, so she would tackle it first. Thanks to her previous visits to the library she knew exactly where they were kept and almost no one used the library during these days, so she should not have any problems sneaking out one piece of parchment. The hardest part of her whole endeavour was the actual act of leaving the palace. The trapdoor in the wine cellar was out of the question for obvious reasons. Not even a mouse would be able to sneak through there. So the main gate was her only option. But that presented her with another pile of insurmountable obstacles. The gates were always guarded and only ever opened for brief intervals and once they were shut magic sealed them for good. But she would worry about it when she got to that point. One step at a time. Small steps. Hobbit steps. She smiled inwardly at the thought that she was not so different from Bilbo, who had spent so many weeks like a stealthy burglar in Thranduil's halls and she only wished that she would actually possess his secret power or whatever it was that had helped him stay undetected. But the smile vanished from her face as fast at it had appeared when she remembered that Bilbo was possibly not alive any more and sadness filled her heart at the thought that she had sent him and the dwarves to their graves. But she could not let grief paralyse her, her target was set and she had to stay focused if she was ever going to succeed.

First things first. The map, obviously, because she needed to know where she was heading after all. Her excursion to the library was uneventful and she found what she was looking for faster than expected. On a neatly organised pile in one of the main rooms there lay several maps in different sizes and varying degrees of detail and she chose the one that suited her purpose best, covering the north-eastern region of Mirkwood and extending towards Lake Esgaroth and the Lonely Mountain. She folded the parchment and slid it in her pocket to then wander aimlessly further into the depths of the library until she came to a halt in front of the restricted section. She had not really thought on going there, but her feet had carried her here and now she stood in front of the threshold once more sorely reminded of Thranduil's absence. Her eyes lingered on the rows of books and memories resurfaced in her head, both sorrowful and joyful of that evening when he showed her this special place, his Queen's refuge. She extended her arms, expecting the invisible barrier to prevent her hands from going through, but to her surprise she did not meet any resistance at all. The magic had been lifted. If only for her or for everyone remained unclear, but she would not miss her chance to revisit this quiet hideout one more time. Maybe this was the last time that she would ever come here. She strolled through the narrow aisles, allowing her fingers to graze along the spines of the books like she had done when she had been there with Thranduil, but then the subtle blue light pulled her magically towards the back of the room, leading her into the hidden grotto, where Thranduil had opened up his heart to her for the first time.

Steady purling of water filled the air, the placid aura inviting the weary to depose of all sorrows. Her eyes were drawn to the pool in the middle, the turquoise surface lying in perfect stillness like a mirror before her. She sat down on one of the benches beside it, but something held her back from dipping her hands inside like she had done last time, it was as if a magical spell lay on the water, the motionless liquid somehow eerily daunting. But her curiosity anyway drew her closer and she bent her head over the edge to peek into the depths of the pool.

At first the water appeared murky as if there was a dense mist floating beneath the surface, not allowing her to see neither the ground nor anything else in the water. But suddenly the fog dissipated in soft swirls and gave way to clearer waters and a delicate outline appeared in the water, barely visible at first. She squinted her eyes in an attempt to identify what it was that she was actually seeing, and from the depths a figure started to take shape, emerging ghostly white and with an ethereal glow, holding her heart in anxious suspense in between fear and wonder. As the nebulous waters receded towards the edges, the middle of the pool began to glow with a blinding white light and the distinct shape of an animal emerged beneath the surface, the contours now clearly outlining the majestic body of a white stag. It first appeared to be cantering leisurely in the depths of the pool, but then it stopped, suddenly made aware of her presence and turned its head gracefully towards the surface, its snow white antlers spreading wide like boughs beneath the smooth surface. And then it looked at her through crystal clear eyes of perfect blue.

She knew those eyes. Eyes that could tell a lie from the truth. Eyes that looked to the bottom of her soul. She froze in shock at the sight. It could not be. This was impossible! He could not be here. He was far away!

Wordless was this precious moment of silent understanding as her eyes were held captive by his attentive gaze. Melancholy and wisdom spoke through them, but the quiet sadness in their endless sea of blue made her heart ache.

How much she missed him! How much she wished to be near him again! The pain of being separated from him and not knowing if she would ever see him again filled her heart with dread and for an instant she felt a desire to reach out for the deer's face that seemed to be only inches away from her hands. But the fear of breaking this magical moment and scaring the animal away held her back and she only stared at it quietly.

Her fingers tightly clutched the stony edges of the pool as her emotions overwhelmed her and tears flooded her eyes.

"Please, come back to me. I miss you so much." And then all her grief broke through: "Every day I wait for you. Every day I walk to the gate and look for a sign of your return. But every day I wait in vain and the gate does not open for you."

The stag reared its ears in curiosity. There was a growing lump in her throat that threatened to drown out her voice as his silent gaze lingered on her, the black pit of guilt opening up inside her as she was reminded of the plan she was about to carry out. "I try so hard to keep my promise, but I don't know how much longer I can bear this." She closed her eyes in shame. "Forgive me that I cannot be strong like you."

And then tears fell from her eyes into the water, the tiny droplets distorting the surface, breaking the smooth reflection into small rippling circles that swiftly raced towards each other shattering the image like glass into a million pieces and then in the blink of an eye the stag was gone, disappearing back into the depths of the pool and the image vanished from her sight. The silvery glow faded away and nothing of the ghostly impression remained on the glimmering turquoise surface. It was to be only a memory. A tender memory that took refuge in her aching heart.

* * *

On the way back to her room she was in inner turmoil. Those eyes had looked into her heart only to find the chasm of despair that threatened to devour all the narrow pinnacles of confidence that she had managed to guard from the flood of darkness. And soon those would be drowned too in a sea of hopelessness. What if this vision was a warning? What if Thranduil was in danger? She had to make haste and pursuit her plans with even more perseverance. There was no time to waste. Any day could be a day too late.

Hence she decided to speed up her preparations, focusing on the next relatively innocuous step, which was to get her hands on food for her journey. She knew for a fact that the elves had some highly nutritious way-bread which they called _lembas_ and she had seen a good amount of it left behind in the kitchens after Thranduil's host departed for Erebor. If she took only a few pieces at a time no one would notice and she could have a full store for several weeks - that was her worst case scenario - by the end of the week, which was the date she had set herself. By then it would be almost three weeks since Thranduil was gone and her hopes of him returning alive were dwindling by the day. The kitchens were relatively quiet these days, now with the king gone there were no lavish feasts, so it was an easy task for her to sneak her necessary provisions from the shelves in the kitchens.

Next she turned to finding a place where to hide all those forbidden possessions. Obviously it could not be her room, because Brethilwen had surely kept track of all her modest belongings and it would be suspicious if she discovered piles of _lembas_ and clothes or even weapons in her room. On her strolls through the palace she had noticed that in a remote corner close to the gates one of the pillars had actually a small alcove beneath the coiling vines that seemed like the perfect hiding place for a small backpack and a bundle of clothes. It was conveniently hidden from view and no one in the palace seemed to have even noticed its existence. She made a mental note of bringing her provisions here step by step, so she could have everything ready by the end of the week. The discovery of this little spot had given her spirit a lift, but still she needed to gather a thick cloak as well as boots that were suitable for winter and then there remained the challenge of getting a hold of a weapon.

The next morning she woke up to a surprise. Luck was with her or so it should appear, unless she had an unknown benefactor, which seemed strangely probable after all. Someone had placed a bundle on her table. Whatever it was, it lay neatly wrapped in a dark green piece of cloth beside the food Brethilwen had brought for breakfast. Despite her hunger she ignored the food and eagerly investigated the lengthy package. It was heavier than she had anticipated and suspiciously long. Her heart almost stopped as she unfolded the layers of cloth revealing beneath them a beautiful elven sword. It gleamed bright in the dimly lit chamber, the silver surface perfectly polished and its curved blade beautifully decorated with sublime floral garlands etched into the surface that wound themselves up and around the pommel and the elegant hilt. It was quite small and lightweight and when her hand closed around the smooth and cold metal of the delicate hilt it fit like a glove. Her eyes were wide in awe at the stunning beauty of this weapon as she gave it some tentative swings. It was as exquisite as it was deadly. This was no mere soldier's sword, it looked like it had been forged for the king except that its size was perfect for her. But her admiration was cut short by a knock at the door. Hastily she wrapped the sword back into its cloth and slid it under her bed before she assumed an unsuspicious position at the table pretending that she was actually having breakfast.

"Come in," she called slightly out of breath trying to conceal her excitement at this unexpected gift. Whoever had brought her this must somehow be aware of her plans and must have access to the king's armoury. But why would anyone in the palace want to help her in her endeavour?

Brethilwen's head peered through the door, a smile on her face. "I see that you are finally eating again."

Anna nodded obediently and then Brethilwen slipped quietly into the room, closing the door behind her. She took a seat beside her but when she looked at the food she raised an eyebrow and frowned "But you have not touched anything! My dear, what am I to do with you?" She threw Anna a reproachful glance and sighed. "The king would not approve of this, you know."

"Well, the king is not here, is he?" Anna countered stubbornly. "And for all I know he may never come back. It has been so long already." She pushed the tray away from her and stared at the table in front of her, working hard to keep her countenance.

Brethilwen rested her hand on her shoulder, her voice finding a calming tone. "Do not lose hope. I know it is not easy for you, but you cannot waste yourself in constant grief."

Anna bit her lower lip and looked at Brethilwen from the corner of her eye, her emotions lying bare beneath her attentive glance.

"I may be only a servant, but I am not blind. I see the despair in your eyes and the desire in your heart to go and find the king." She was going to mouth a protest, but Brethilwen bade her to be silent as she went on: "I know that you feel abandoned and lost. But I want you to know that you are not alone."

She lowered her head in shame and sadness and then Brethilwen pulled her into an unexpected embrace and for a moment she allowed the comfort of affectionate touch to fill the dreadful emptiness in her heart. Snuggled against her shoulder all the worries that she had kept so tightly tucked in shook off their ties and burst forth in a shower of unanswered questions.

"But what am I to do? How do I know what is right? What choice do I make?" She was sorely reminded of the mess she had gotten herself into with Bilbo and the dwarves and were afraid of making the same mistake all over again.

"No one can tell you what you must do. Only you can." Her grey eyes lingered on Anna's distraught face with empathy. "You must find the answers to those questions in your heart. And whatever decision you take is yours and yours alone." And with a knowing smile she added: "And if I am not mistaken you have made up your mind already."

Anna blushed and threw her a surprised look, embarrassed at her thoughts apparently being so obvious.

"Don't give me that look." A slightly amused smile passed Brethilwen's face as she released Anna from her embrace and tucked back a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I know you have. And I will not try to dissuade you from your plans, because I know that your wish to find the king is stronger in you than any means I might have of convincing you otherwise."

A grateful smile dawned on her face now that it was also clear to her to whom she owed her gift.

"And I thought I was being clever in disguising my agenda." She shook her head at her own naivety, but there was relief in her heart at not having to hide her plans at least from Brethilwen anymore.

"I have been around for quite a while. So not much will stay hidden from me. And I know a strong will when I see one." She raised her eyebrows in amusement, adding in a more serious tone: "But please be careful. I have grown quite fond of you." With a soft squeeze of her hand she rose from her seat and made for the door. "I will leave you to your breakfast then." She tilted her head sideways as she reached for the door-knob. "And you better finish your food. You will need all the strength that you can get."

Anna responded with a well-behaved nod that send Brethilwen on her way with a satisfied smile.

* * *

With Brethilwen now being in on her secret her preparations rolled smoothly towards their completion and by the end of the week she had everything that she needed. Brethilwen had provided her with a thick travel cloak, matching gloves and soft black leather boots to protect her from the cold. Everything had been neatly packed into a small backpack, she even had received a black leather belt with a scabbard for her sword and all that remained was to wait for the perfect moment to leave. Brethilwen would not be able to help her there, because surely the type of magic that sealed the doors would lie beyond her abilities. On the day before her planned escape she had already stuffed the backpack inside the alcove close to the gate, making sure that it was well out of view.

She had made it a habit to walk to the gate every day, hoping that eventually Thranduil would come back, but now her mind was set to wait for the right moment that would allow her to sneak out of the palace unnoticed.

The following morning she made her way towards the gate as usual, checking that her backpack was still in place when suddenly the gates were being pulled open with a creaking noise. She had only seconds to decide, so she quickly pulled out the cloak and snatched her backpack, waiting with a hammering heartbeat in the shadow of the column for the right moment. Only a few guards were watching the gate and most of them had gotten already used to see her linger around, so they did not really pay attention to her, besides their eyes were geared towards the gates and not her. She sneaked carefully closer as the doors fully swung open, hiding her backpack from view and her sword diligently stowed away under her tunic. Her hands were clammy with sweat now that all that she had been looking forward to was actually about to become real. She slid her hands in her pockets making sure that her poem, Thranduil's cloth as well as the map were there and then she was all set. She took a deep breath and while the guards were distracted by welcoming whoever was entering the palace and standing with their backs to her, she sneaked past them like a stealthy thief, her eyes fixed on the bridge ahead. The forest lay in peaceful white perfection before her, the treetops covered in freshly fallen snow and the ground beneath spreading like a pristine rug of glittery white, only a line of lonely tracks cutting through the middle.

She pressed herself against the wings of the gate, the cloak pulled tightly around her and then only a few more steps separated her from the outside world. She peered back over her shoulder and it seemed that the person that had arrived wrapped in a thick travel cloak was some sort of messenger as the guards all welcomed him heartily and surrounded him in an animated conversation, not heeding their surrounding. But it was too late now to turn around, she had already made her choice. And it was now or never, stay or leave. If she turned around to find out what news were being delivered she would lose her only chance of leaving the palace. And that meant her only chance of finding Thranduil. Her heart was beating so loud she was sure the guards would soon hear it and drag her back in. She could not linger any longer, now was the moment to decide. She looked back no more and moved ahead in swift silence.

Once she stepped over the threshold her feet sank into the soft snow and the cold stung through the thin shoes she was wearing. She quickly made for the corner on the outside of the terrace to wait there hidden from view until the gate was being pulled shut again. And then she would change into more fitting clothes. The voices of the guards and the visitor slowly faded away as they all entered the palace together and then the gates were being pulled shut, the thump of the heavy stone door muffled by the freshly fallen snow.

This was it, the moment of no return. Thranduil's palace lay behind her and the world was now ahead.

To be continued…

* * *

 _Author's Notes: So, Anna is on her own now out in the forest of Mirkwood and who knows what awaits her there! Will she find Thranduil or will trouble find her?_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 13^^!_

 _Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!_


	14. On the Edge of Darkness

_A BIG thank you to all those lovely people who have reviewed the preceding chapter: thrndlwood, Raider-K, welliegirl16, Lydwina Marie, Electric Sheep78, AutumnSparkle, the Catbird Seat, Charming Ever After!_

* * *

 _Chapter 13 - On the Edge of Darkness_

A picture of disaster and utter misery unfolded itself before Thranduil as he laid eyes on the city burnt to ashes by the dragon's wrath. It was not something that was new to him, but it ripped open old wounds, scars stinging anew at the sight of death on heated wings, visions resurfacing of the darker days that had brought upon him the fire, the flames branding his skin forever. Images he wished to keep under lock and key were rekindled in his mind, resurfacing from the murky waters of the bottomless pool of his memories, brewing within him their venomous concoction of anguish and helplessness.

Every step closer to the ruined city of Esgaroth was a step further into his own disastrous fires of hell. Bodies burnt to death alive, every inch of skin on fire, flesh melting away beneath the sizzling heat, limbs a blazing torch of scorching heat, the nauseating smell of burnt flesh filling his lungs.

A moment of hesitation, a blink of an eye that had kept him stunned and frozen in the red heat flickering before his eyes, one little moment that had meant everything and destroyed everything he had.

* * *

"Angoroth," the word had fallen from Elhadron's mouth like a hammer on an anvil, ominous and heavy with the foreboding of doom as the elvish warriors had faced the horrid creature in the desolate valley overshadowed by the stronghold of Gundabad.

Distinctly outlined against the gloomy sky there loomed a massive creature with scales of matted grey, like an armour forged of iron, leathery wings with pointed claws, sharp like razors, a worm so terrible it instilled fear in anybody who had the misfortune to stand in its way. Eyes like flames, piercing and red like thick drops of blood with speckles of jet black and jaws with rows upon rows of teeth like knifes had greeted Thranduil and his companions on that fateful day so long ago.

Wisps of smoke hung thick and heavy beneath the cloud covered sky, leaving the ghostly silhouette of the massive fort nearly shrouded, only the occasional sharp edge poking through the grey veil bestowing on it an eerie and frightful look.

The beast crawled forth with remarkable speed and swift movement despite its colossal body, wriggling its way out of the orcs' lair, the fortress of Gundabad, and barring the entrance with stubborn pride. It reared its forbidding head covered in innumerable spikes, towering like a dark pinnacle of iron in front of Thranduil in his gleaming black armour and his warriors all clad in brown and dark green, their oval shaped shields raised in protection of their king. Elhadron had taken a stance right beside Thranduil, being his closest advisor and most trusted warrior. Dark haired and nearly as tall as the king himself his bearing was proud, his face stern and sombre grey eyes under furrowed brows conveying caution and prudence.

"My lord, we must not allow this beast to ensnare us with the seductive and malicious words it surely will be throwing at us."

Elhadron had been an ever prescient counsellor, one of the few that had argued against setting out for Erebor to collect the necklace the dwarves had fashioned for Thranduil, seeing as the queen had shown some inexplicable concern over Thranduil's plans.

But now, facing the evil creature, Thranduil only nodded quietly in assurance, his eyes never leaving the dragon and his face a fierce mask of self-control, an impenetrable shield of defence, should the dragon dare to raise its gravelly voice.

As indeed, it did. Words that he would never forget.

"So, my King," the dragon spat at Thranduil in a mocking tone, malevolent, twisted and with a deep rumbling that seemed to come straight from the foundations of Arda.

"I see that you have finally come to look for your Queen." Small wisps of smoke emerged from his nostrils as he leered at Thranduil before him. "What took you so long?"

His voice emerged like a venomous cloud of hot air from the gorges of his foul-smelling throat enveloping the Elvenking and his warriors in repulsive stench.

Thranduil only countered with determined silence, prepared to withstand this abhorrent creature and the destructive powers its voice alone possessed.

Wicked twisters of words with malicious intent were all the drakes and this one was no different, a spawn of Glaurung, the first of all the dragons, born from fire and sorcery in the shrouded beginnings of the First Age.

But this would not do, no one could stand before the mighty Angoroth in silence. Fangs bared, his contorted face a travesty of polite manners he lowered his appalling head, worming his sluggish belly closer to the elves, who bravely stood their ground, their widened eyes the only thing that might have given away the terror this creature instilled in them.

"Answer me, Elf, or have they not taught you how to speak?" His voice rang like the grinding of metal against stone through the shadowed valley around them.

"What is it you want from me, Angoroth? I do have business to attend to, if you do not mind." Thranduil spoke at last, his voice firm, as he faced the giant snake with reckless defiance. "And you are standing in my way."

"Now you are all but forgetting your nice manners, King of the Woodland Realm as you like to call yourself, you are in no position to utter commands nor expecting them to be met with obedience. You have no power here."

Beginning to feel his superiority being undermined Angoroth was going to shoot an arrow straight at the king, taking a mischievous pleasure in knowing the exact whereabouts of his vulnerable spot.

"Let us no forget that it is you who wants something from me. Something that has been taken from you and you dearly wish to reclaim."

The dragon leaned so close that the stench of his hot breath forced Thranduil to momentarily avert his face, his eyes now drawn to the razor sharp claws crushing the already crumbling rock beneath it, as the beast stomped its way closer towards the intruders, tail slithering behind him and raising dust in thick grey clouds about him.

"Is it not so?" the dragon insisted, sensing a trace of hesitation in Thranduil's answer.

"I will not justify myself to a servant of evil who thinks he has a right to withhold something of mine. There will be no negotiations," Thranduil hissed through gritted teeth with barely banked contempt, his hands determinedly sliding down along his sides until he had wrapped his fingers around the hilts of his swords.

"Now move aside, worm, before I will cleave your hideous head in two. And make no mistake, I will not hesitate to use my blades on you should the need arise."

Following suit his warriors dutifully reached for their hilts, swords still sheathed but ready to draw them at any given moment at their king's command, the threat of an impending attack looming like heavy storm clouds over their heads with every heated word being thrown in between the king and the beast.

Red orbs like molten metal glowered at Thranduil as the dragon trampled the ground before them, gravel crunching under the immense weight like bones being crushed and sending waves of dread throughout the rumbling ground beneath it. Anger had begun to boil in within the wicked creature bringing with it the onset of flames, the bellows of its torso expanding dangerously and revealing speckles of orange beneath the matted grey scales as its lungs began to fill with the deadly heat.

Caged inside its mighty body it remained though; for now. Cunning as he was, the dragon was going to feed them but a foretaste of his lethal power, knowing that this was usually intimidating enough to inspire every living soul with awe and terror.

But he had reckoned without Thranduil's unyielding perseverance, the dragon's pretentious menace simply recoiling from the king's shield of willpower.

"Do not think that you will intimidate me with this meagre display of fireworks you may have in store in your foul belly. I will take back what is mine!"

Thranduil's gaze of starlight clashed against the one of flames as both held their ground and none would yield.

But it was clear that Angoroth would not simply step aside and allow them to walk out with the Queen. This had been only the foreplay, insignificant banter, and despite his stern appearance dread had begun to creep into Thranduil's heart, fearing that the dragon was only trying to play for time, holding the elves back and giving the orcs enough time to fend off the impending attack, their chances of finding his wife alive dwindling by the minute. They were wasting their time with this skirmish!

Thranduil had only brought a small company with him, hastily selected his most trusted warriors, when he had learned that his wife had been abducted in his absence. Seeing the dragon now before him and imagining the orcish force that possibly lay hidden within the dark walls of Gundabad it began to dawn on him that all this had been a cleverly hatched plot to lure him into a trap.

The dragon's fell voice shook him out of his gloomy thoughts, cutting through the stifling air with venom:

"We will see about that. But first tell me, Elvenking, how did it come to pass that your wife has been taken from you in the first place? Why were you not there to protect her?" Angoroth aimed another blow at the still unwavering king.

"Where were you?" Every word dripping with barely veiled accusation hit Thranduil with painful precision.

Pressing his lips together Thranduil threw the dragon a lethal glare, his fingers tightening considerably around the hilt of both of his elven swords, their silver blades gleaming orange as the dragon leered at him, jaws open and the onset of caged flames boiling in the bottomless pit of the animal's throat.

"I would advise you to crawl back into your filthy lair of eternal darkness if you do not wish to die a gruesome death."

Thranduil's lower lip trembled at the dragon's accusations, guilt rearing in the depths of his heart. Guilt at having gone to Erebor despite his wife asking him not to go. Guilt that had begun to gnaw at him and had dug its way into the very corners of his soul and had threatened to break down his iron-willed restraint.

"What were you doing in Erebor, Lord Thranduil, when your place was at your wife's side? Are gems more precious to you than your wife?" he prodded again, twisting the knife in Thranduil's wound.

"You had no right, no right at all to take her away!" it finally broke through the dam of his composure, his blue eyes glinting with hatred and filled to the brim with loathing. Thranduil unsheathed one of his swords in a swift motion, brandishing the gleaming blade at the grimace in front of him. Sensing the impending danger, Elhadron shuffled closer, readying his sword and shield should the need arise to protect his king.

"My lord, it is no use arguing with this offspring of evil. There is only one language they understand."

He beseeched him to not let himself be drawn out, fearing that the dragon's strategy was precisely that, the king under the influence of the abduction of his wife being more vulnerable than the usual. "Let us finish him off once and for all, so he might never again open his malicious mouth."

But Thranduil did not move, his eye still fixed on the beast in front of them, his heart desperately struggling to hold on to the last fragments of calmness that had not yet been burnt down by the heat of Angoroth's words.

Angoroth's twisted face shone with satisfaction, seeing how he would slowly be able to break down Thranduil's reserve, step by step bringing the Elvenking down until he would be a crumbling mess, a shadow of his regal self and an easy target for his fiery breath. Then he would go for the kill. But in the meantime he had all the time in Arda to toy with him and torture him, letting him feel that he was no king in this realm of darkness.

"Oh, but I did not take her. I am the one keeping her. The orcs did the dirty work for me. And let me tell you, they were very eager to bring your pretty wife to me. They barely could keep their filthy hands off her."

Glinting with malice the dragon paraded in front of them, his leathery wings now halfway unfolded to add more grandeur to his menacing appearance.

"Enough, you evil spawn of Morgoth!" Thranduil spat, his whole body burning with the desire for vengeance. "You shall say no more and your twisted mouth will forever be silenced!"

Thranduil raised his sword higher, blade glinting dimly beneath the dull grey sky, the gaze of fire and ice locked in a merciless struggle for power.

A wide swing and a swift stroke, silver hitting iron in a deafening clang, heat and smoke filling the air and through it all Thranduil's cry as he ferociously dealt a targeted blow at the animal's chest rearing up before him. And then a feral shriek of pain, wailing and ear-splitting in its thunderous blast echoed through the valley.

Tumbling backwards and maddened by the unexpected stabbing Angoroth's vengeance came swift and devastating.

Shields were raised and swords were drawn, a row of silver spears, elegant curves facing the armoured mountain of rough scales, grey and coarse. Elhadron urged Thranduil to take cover behind the shield he offered, but the king listened not, his body frozen in motion, the force of his own stroke dragging his arm down, the sharp edge of his blade grinding heavily against the gravel beneath him.

"My lord, you must protect yourself!" Elhadron's voice rang desperately through the rising mayhem.

And then a singular flame burst forth and in the blink of an eye infernal chaos struck, scorching heat hitting Thranduil right in the face and searing pain rushing through his veins, and then he was pushed to the ground by a body bursting in flames, throwing himself in between Thranduil and the dragon.

An outcry of pain died in his throat as the breath was knocked from his lungs by the sheer force of the blazing torrent engulfing him, skin melting off his bones and his left eye going suddenly blind, a grey veil of darkness descending on him as he fell into the shadows.

And for a moment he lost all consciousness. He felt his _fae_ tearing away from his _rhaw_ , pulling, yearning for release, wishing to be freed from this incredible pain. It teetered on the edge, wavering on the brink of death. Hovering over the abyss of darkness like a feather at the mercy of the wayward gusts of a winter wind, the sweet promise of oblivion reaching out seductively for him. He only had to let go and be free of all the suffering. Only a fragile bond was still holding him together and keeping him from tearing apart.

Soon he would not have the strength to fight anymore. All was lost.

But this had not been the end. It had been only the beginning.

* * *

"My lord?" Amardir's voice tore Thranduil from the iron grip of his memories, but only slowly he resurfaced from the fires of his past and when his eyes met Amardir's the remnants of terror still shone through their crystal blue.

"Is everything all right?" the concerned words of Amardir yanked Thranduil finally back to the present and he realised that he had been gradually slowing down his pace until his elk had abruptly stopped in its tracks and his entire company behind him had come to a halt along the banks of the Long Lake. He nodded slowly, a dark gloom shadowing his face.

"Underestimating the impact of a dragon's wrath is an imprudent mistake. I was foolish enough to do so once and paid a high price for it."

"So did my father," Amardir added grimly.

"Your father was the bravest and most valiant of all my warriors and much could have been different if I had but listened to his words. But alas, I was blinded and his wisdom had gone unheeded." His gaze drifted off into the distance.

An air of surprise dawned on Amardir's face at this unexpected rueful revelation, but no words passed his lips. Thranduil now faced Amardir directly, his eyes streaked with sorrow and regret.

"I know that none of these words can bring him back, for he has travelled to the Halls of Mandos, but rest assured that not a day goes by where I do not lament his passing and the feeling of guilt has not left me ever since."

Amardir acknowledged the king's words with a solemn nod, but it was Faeldir, who had now caught up with his brother, that spoke.

"Thank you, my lord, for these words. They mean more to my brother and me than you can possibly imagine." He raised his hand to his heart and gratefulness lit up his face. Thranduil mirrored his gesture and bestowed a small smile on the young elf.

Suddenly made aware of the impact the sight of destruction might have on Faeldir, Thranduil quickly sought to dispel any possible concerns:

"I know that what you see here before you might frighten you, but do not despair, the dragon is forever gone and will do no more harm now that he is resting in his eternal grave at the bottom of this lake."

Faeldir's eyes roamed over the pitiful sight expanding before him. "I do have to admit that I did not quite expect this." He underlined his words with a sweeping gesture of his arms. "After all I only have heard tales of those fiery beasts and now I have to say that I am quite relieved that we will not have to face one of them."

"Indeed we luckily will not have to preoccupy ourselves with dragons." Fully returning to his usual calm self he geared Faeldir's thoughts towards a more practical side. "We must now direct our efforts to help those that have survived the dragon's fire and are in dire need of food and shelter."

Indeed, the fire was gone and so was much of the smoke, but what remained of the disaster was heart-wrenching nonetheless.

The Long Lake was still heavily littered with burnt wood, silent witnesses of the wanton destruction that had befallen Esgaroth just a few days past, half drowned and sticking out in awkward angles and shapes from the murky waters. In between there were barrels floating amongst abandoned belongings and scattered dead bodies, burnt beyond recognition, soon to be swallowed by the dark waters of the lake and sharing their grave with the dragon, cold and forever deprived of his deadly fire.

Great was the joy and relief among the people of Lake-town upon the arrival of Thranduil and his army as hunger and thirst would now be quenched and many helping hands would speed up the necessary preparations against the harshness of winter and to save what little could be saved from the place they once called home. Plans were quickly made and Bard who had taken over the lead after the Master's not so heroic disappearance proved to be an apt leader. Goods were distributed, camps were made, and those that could not fight stayed behind, helping to rebuild what needed to be reconstructed.

Thranduil was willing to put the fate of the people of Lake-town before his own desire to reclaim his wife's necklace. Still, he wished to make haste, for he feared that the longer they tarried the more obstacles they might find on their way. And even more he feared the ever lingering shadow making an unannounced entrance and descending on all of them, his people and the men of Lake-town.

So he welcomed Bard's offer to join forces and march towards the Mountain together. For the bowman too was hoping for a share in the fabled treasures of Erebor, demanding amends for their losses, which he attributed to the dwarves' waking of the dragon.

And in a few days time the elvish host made their way together with the men of the Lake, the green and the blue banners waving side by side in the soft breeze, carrion birds as their ever faithful companions in hope of battle and slaughter.

Their way to Dale was swift and undisturbed as they moved at a quick pace, geared towards making camp in the abandoned ruins of the once mighty city before the valley that led to the entrance to the Mountain, the bleak wastelands. Under the cover of dusk they approached the city along both banks of the river, swiftly establishing their camp during the hours where the twilight slowly melted into the jet black night, until finally many fires and torches illuminated the crumbling walls and desolate towers of Dale.

* * *

That night, as Thranduil directed his eyes towards the mountain, he could not help but be reminded of what it held inside; or rather what it withheld and Elhadron's cautionary words of reasoning resounded in his head, his wife's imploring pleas a painful overtone and the dragon's malevolent accusations the relentless beat of doom, all forming a reproachful elegy of guilt, ready to drown out every other reasonable cadence in his mind.

Was he indeed treading his old path of delusion again? Was he walking away from what really mattered?

The worries that he carried in his heart had been his loyal companions ever since he set out for Erebor and the longer he remained away from the palace the harder he had to work to keep them under control.

The birds were his trusted messengers and ever tirelessly they flew back and forth between the Elvenking's halls and the king himself. They spoke of Anna's struggle to be patient, of her doubts and how much she feared for his life. Nothing of it did anything to appease Thranduil, but rather increased his own concerns and his feeling of restlessness, being torn in between the rigorous voice of duty and the gentle whispers of his heart.

He pulled the curtains shut with a frustrated sigh, forcing the looming silhouette of the dwarvish stronghold from his eyes and his mind, hoping to be able to occupy himself with other things, like laying out a strategic plan as to how to approach the Mountain. Now that they had seen the braziers lit and their flames illuminating the heavy darkness it was clear that the dwarves, or at least some of them, must have survived indeed. So it would not be as easy as walking up to the Mountain, collect the necklace and whatever other treasures might catch his eye and head back for his palace. It rather looked like the dwarves had prepared themselves to stay and sit on that pile of gold they had newly wrenched from that accursed dragon and knowing the stubbornness of dwarves just all too well, their force, albeit small in numbers, was one to be reckoned with. And who knew, they might have even some hidden allies marching towards the mountain to join them. After all, though the dwarves might fight amongst themselves, they were still remarkably loyal, even he could not deny that, and might surprise his elven host and the people of Lake-town with renewed forces withstanding them. When it got to defend dwarvish possessions against intruders of any other kind, they were not squeamish as to against whom they would raise their heavy battle-axes.

With a lazy pull of his fingers he adjusted his robe that had slid down his shoulders and turned towards the small round table to reach out for the decanter, pouring himself some wine, hoping that this would take his mind off all those worries pestering him.

But he had reckoned without the wizard, whose unmistakable droning voice was suddenly to be heard just outside the tent. Apparently he was having an argument with Thranduil's guards who had orders not to let anyone in, as the king had given clear instructions to be left alone.

"But I am Mithrandir, surely the king will make an exception." When there was only a politely uttered "No exceptions," heard from the guards, the voice took on a more urgent tone. "Tell Thranduil that I come with tidings of utmost importance," quickly adding, "No, and it cannot wait until tomorrow."

He knew it already, the wizard and his insistence. In within seconds, one of his guards would pull the curtain apart, and with an embarrassed look on his face inform Thranduil that this old man would just not be palmed off with any type of argument, blatantly refusing to leave until he would get his audience with the king granted.

A barely stifled sigh escaped Thranduil as he saw himself confronted once more with a possible moralising lecture by the ever nosy wizard. He knew all about it, he must have heard it a million times since the arrival of the Istari in Middle-earth. Ever on the side of Men, who had taken up meddling in affaires that did not concern them, the wizards had been around watching out for them, guiding them. More likely protecting them in an overly friendly way, Thranduil thought to himself sourly. Not that he did not value his opinion or advice, but he could not have chosen a more unsuitable moment to divulge whatever he had on his mind.

But there was nothing for it. If he had to face the inevitable, it was best to get it over with, he told himself as he took another measured sip of wine.

"Tell Mithrandir to come in already. I know that he will not take no for an answer." Thranduil's voice stifled the guard's question before he was even able to utter one syllable. The king had not even turned around, but sure enough the preoccupied face of the guard had appeared in between the folds of the curtain. He stood with his mouth open, swallowing his now obsolete question and instead shuffled obediently aside to usher the wizard inside.

His shoulders sinking just imperceptibly, Thranduil put down his goblet, his bejewelled fingers letting go reluctantly of the smooth metal and then with one graceful twist he turned around, his heavy cloak of silvery grey elegantly flowing about his shoulders, the inner folds cascading around his lean shape in deepest burgundy, his whole figure a picture of effortless elegance.

"Mithrandir," Thranduil addressed the old man with only the slightest inclination of his head. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your unannounced visit?" leaving no doubt in his voice that he did not deem it just as pleasurable as the words might let on.

Through the heavy curtains entered an old man bent over his staff, a coarse and weatherbeaten grey travel cloak slung loosely around his shoulders, his long grey beard streaked with strands of white as bushy as his long hair, his good-natured face as wrinkled as a crumpled piece of parchment, a jovial smile shining through the tangled mess of his beard and keen blue eyes twinkling with a humorous glint. The only thing missing from his usual apparel was his pointy hat, which he had handed to the slightly confused elf guard beside him upon entering the tent.

Nothing of his rather ragged appearance revealed the actual power hidden in within this cloaked figure, for the wizard travelled always in an unassuming way, blending in with his surroundings, not instilling fear, but rather appearing as a wise counsellor, the well-being of Middle-earth his main concern. Only the unobtrusive blinking of a distinct elongated silver shape beneath his cloak spoke of the existence of a sharp blade, which the old man knew how to wield with surprising efficiency.

"King Thranduil," Gandalf exclaimed, gallantly ignoring the slightly hostile tone in Thranduil's voice, "the pleasure is all mine. I do not wish to take up much of your time and I promise you to keep it short."

Gandalf's apologetic nod was met by a slight frown on Thranduil's side, clearly conveying that he harboured serious doubts concerning the wizard's ability of keeping his speech crisp.

"I have come with counsel," Gandalf carried on undeterred. "And I do need to warn you. I have been to Dol Guldur."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow in curiosity: "Indeed you have?" followed by a questioning look directed at the old man. Seeing as he had now the king's full attention, Gandalf went ahead to detail his unsettling discoveries.

"The enemy has not been idle. The shadow has slept long enough. It is now preparing to spread its evil darkness once again over the lands of Middle-earth. The dragon might be dead, but the malice is not. I have seen it. Sauron has risen again. He has fled to Mordor to bid his time, but it will not be long until he will show his full force."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, throwing Gandalf a scrutinising look. "How can you be so sure of that?"

"First: I have seen it with my own eyes and second," he shrugged slightly and added in the most matter-of-fact voice, "I am a wizard after all, I know things."

With a stiff nod Thranduil retorted "Be that as it may, I am only here to reclaim something of mine. I do not wish to get caught up in another war if I can help it."

"But you must know that the war will seek you out even in your own kingdom. You will not be able to evade the all-consuming shadow that comes with it. And let me tell you, Sauron and his orc armies are preparing for a strike. I do not think that you will be able to simply walk away with that heirloom you wish to reclaim. You must ready yourself for a possible battle, and it will not be the dwarves you will have to worry about, but a much fiercer and evil foe, only death and destruction on their dark and twisted minds."

Gandalf's voice had taken on an imploring tone, hoping to have conveyed to Thranduil the importance of his discovery, knowing that despite his isolationist tendencies Thranduil remained a wise and prudent monarch, filled with an equal amount of courage and bitter hatred of Sauron's terror.

For a moment Thranduil seemed to consider Gandalf's revelations and the aggrieving prospect of merciless slaughter that came with them, should the wizard's assumptions indeed be proven truthful. And if he was completely honest to himself he did not have any reason to doubt the wizard, for he himself had surmised that it was just a matter of time until Sauron would show his face of malice once again.

"Very well," Thranduil said at last after a moment of pondering silence, the wizard and the Elvenking exchanging wordless glances, "I will heed your counsel, but still, I do not wish to spill unnecessary elvish blood. We must not jump to hasty conclusions."

Gandalf nodded, sufficiently satisfied with this outcome. "Yes, of course." He adjusted his cloak as he prepared himself to go. "I am glad to have found a sympathetic ear and as I have promised I shall not take up more of your time and will be on my way now."

Thranduil bade the wizard farewell, a distinct shadow of preoccupation clouding the king's face.

Gandalf's determined motion to reach out for the curtain was interrupted by another thought crossing his mind as he turned again to face Thranduil addressing him in a casual tone.

"By the way, I heard that you have a visitor in your palace."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed instantly and he retorted rather harsher than what he had intended:

"And what would you know of that?"

For once Thranduil was not able to contain his surprise. He just blankly stared at the wizard, a small smile dawning on the old man's face, barely visible behind the tangled grey mess that was his beard, as if it were the most obvious thing for a wizard to have knowledge of even the smallest and seemingly most insignificant happenings in Middle-earth.

But it took Thranduil only an instant to ease back into his usual composed self, his mind set on regaining the upper hand in this conversation, his face a perfect display of languid arrogance.

"Yes, don't tell me: you are a wizard and you know things," the sarcasm in his voice only barely contained.

With a humble nod Gandalf sought to downplay the true powers that had been vested in him as guardian of Middle-earth.

"It is far from my mind to meddle in your private affairs, but I do have to admit that this rather astounding appearance has raised my curiosity."

Thranduil's jaw had tightened, his lips pressed together, feeling torn in between wanting to keep the wizard out of his personal space and at the same time craving the answers he had been searching for.

"Astounding in what aspect?" he said with as much indifference as possible, his fingers absentmindedly gliding along the seam of his cloak.

Gandalf wrapped both of his hands around his staff and with an assessing glance from under his bushy eyebrows he said:

"You know very well that those occurrences are a rare thing to happen. Only in times of great need the veil in between the worlds becomes translucent, allowing for a passage that otherwise would be prohibited by the firm laws of time and space."

He paused, studying Thranduil's face, his emotions well concealed behind his stoic and aloof facade.

"Meaning what?" There was an undeniable strain in the Elvenking's voice.

"Meaning that it is remarkable, you have to admit. Because only a great amount of despair can move the celestial powers to pity," the wizard continued. "That, and love."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, a nearly imperceptible twitch around his lips the only thing revealing the effort it cost him to keep his bucking emotions tightly bound inside his chest, as they were struggling to wrest themselves free from their prison of guilt and self-denial.

"And what would you know of love?" he said quietly, his eyes alone unveiling with painful clarity the inseparable embrace of love and loss that held his heart in a tight grip.

"More than you think. Love is powerful and not to be underestimated." There was sincere empathy in his sky blue eyes as Gandalf took one step closer to Thranduil. "I am sure that beneath those layers of ice you have cultivated around your heart, the memory of it still resides within it like a flame that is waiting to be rekindled."

Still Thranduil maintained his composed facade. "And why would you concern yourself with my wellbeing?"

"Why should I not? You are a wise ruler and rather dear to me even if that feeling may not be mutual. If you want me to put it in one word: forgiveness. That is what you need, what your heart needs."

Thranduil watched with disbelief as the wizard's words reached into the depths of his soul where he thought his deepest fears and wishes well hidden from the world and if he was honest, even from himself.

"I do not think that I need your advice in those matters," he brushed Gandalf off rather defensively.

"I beg to differ, but you do. You had your fair share of mistakes and losses in the past, though not all of them were of your doing. You cannot blame yourself for everything that happened."

His keen eyes looked at Thranduil with a warmth he usually would not bestow on the proud Elvenking.

"Now is your chance to make up for them. Take the right decisions and bear in mind one more thing."

Gandalf gently laid one hand on Thranduil's shoulder in an almost fatherly gesture.

"Do not be afraid to listen to your heart. You know that those gems have led you astray already once. It would not be wise to give in to a false desire for lifeless jewels when you might be leaving behind another blossoming treasure."

For a fraction of a second all the pain that resided within Thranduil's heart floated to the surface, threatening to spill out in words that he wished to say, but could not; at least not yet and not here. He closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself, tugging back his emotions behind the well rehearsed veil of indifference.

"I do value your concern, but I need to do what I must. There is no other choice, not for me."

Gandalf retreated his hand, knowing that he must not push this subject any further.

"Yes, I understand. But know that indeed there is always more than only one choice. You just have to be willing to open your eyes to them."

And with those rather cryptic words and a poignant glare the wizard bade Thranduil farewell, leaving behind an agitated king.

* * *

He felt a sudden urge to see her, make sure she was all right and unharmed. Hearing his trusted messengers was not enough, he needed to see her with his own eyes. He would have to send forth his _fae_ in the guise of his spirit animal, thus, liberated from the boundaries of his own body, being able to overcome the distance that lay in between both of them. Something that he did not do lightly as it left his _rhaw_ more vulnerable, a rift splitting apart what was meant to be whole. But he knew that it was necessary or else the worries newly stirred up by the wizard would consume him eventually.

He allowed his gaze to travel inwards, raised his hands to his heart and momentarily a powerful swirl of light floated through his chest, infinite warmth building up inside him, a glowing torrent flowing steadily through him. Every fibre of his body brimmed over with rays of light, circulating through his veins as he sent forth his spirit through the most delicate web of silver strings woven out of purest starlight surrounding his figure as he remained in a status of trance. His body was completely motionless, as if a spell had been cast on him, allowing his soule to leave his outer shell behind and travel freely throughout space.

Through layers of contorted images and blurred sounds he sped on, never stopping until he found the one place where he could feel her presence, shining like a steadfast beacon in within the stream of incessant colours through which he dived, braving the tumultuous sea that was the mosaic of life, unswervingly following the pull of his heart.

In the Queen's refuge he finally found her, bent over the pool, just like the day when he had first allowed her a glimpse into his heart, her face shining through the perfect stillness of the surface.

The white light filled the waters, stirring up their calmness and then his eyes found hers.

Her green eyes were wide in disbelief, followed by utter amazement and then her hands stretched out towards him only to pull back hastily before they would touch the surface. He could only listen and watch her through the stag's eyes, knowing that no words of consolation would reach her ear. But maybe if she saw him, felt his soul reach out to her, then the distance in between them could be reduced to the thin veil of turquoise that mirrored their faces.

When he looked into her eyes he saw her struggle, the demons of doubt that she was fighting, their venomous arrows piercing her heart until her shield of confidence was only a brittle remnant of her steadfast promise to him. The fear of losing him becoming unbearable until every reasonable thought drowned in the dark sea of despair.

He knew that she had already lost one life when she tumbled into his realm and now she was about to lose the new one that she had begun to build. Those tender bonds that had begun to grow in between the most unlikely of people were now threatened to be severed before they had even been granted the chance to reach out to one another. But beneath it all he also saw the unwavering flame of love, burning with unfaltering dedication, longing to fill all those dark corners of her heart with its beautiful light.

Tears fell from her eyes onto the mirror, stirring up the surface and then in the blink of an eye she was gone and Thranduil's spirit resurfaced from his journey, a rush of light floating through blurred shapes and indistinguishable sounds as his soul was pulled back to be caught by the silvery web until the intense light ebbed away as he became whole again.

He opened his eyes but his gaze remained far away, wishing to linger near her. Her image so vivid, her lovely face so close, but still out of reach, made him painfully conscious of how much he missed her.

He wanted nothing more than to go back, but he knew that he must go forward, hoping that she would still be there for him in the end.

To be continued …

Sindarin:

 _fae_ \- soul

 _rhaw_ \- body

* * *

 _Author's Note: I hope you have enjoyed this latest chapter and the insight into Thranduil's tragic past as well as seeing the encounter in the Queen's Refuge from his POV._

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 14^^!_

 _Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!_


	15. Lost

_June, 9th:_ _In case you got a notification that I have updated this story: Yes I did, but I added a **Prologue** and moved it to **Chapter 1**. Sorry for the confusion and I hope I can get the mess with the reviews sorted out as they are now all off by one chapter..._

* * *

 _Thank you to those 2 lovely people who have left a review on the preceding chapter: Lydwina Marie and thrndlwood! I'm glad you have enjoyed it :D!_

* * *

 _Chapter 14 - Lost_

The world might indeed be ahead of Anna, but it was concealed quite well behind the dense thicket that was the forest of Mirkwood, which stretched sheer endlessly before her eyes. An impenetrable wall of branches, trunks and roots lay in between her and the Elvenking. But she had set herself to conquer, or at least cross, the forest unharmed and she would not let herself be intimidated by its daunting appearance before having even set a foot in it.

The gates of the palace were shut and sealed for good and she took her first deep breath in the wild. She was on her own now, no one watching her but also no one watching out for her. She rummaged in her backpack and reached for the boots and gloves as well as the thick woolen tunic, which Brethilwen had packed as a matter of prudence. She pulled the tunic over her head, making sure the sword in its scabbard was securely tied on top of it and easily accessible, changed into the tall leather boots, pulled the heavy cloak around her shoulders and then packed away all the clothes she would not be needing. Finally only the gloves were left and then she shouldered her backpack and was ready to head out on her journey.

Peaceful and serene was Thranduil's kingdom in its wintry beauty and one could easily forget all the dangers and dark secrets it possibly held in store for the unaware traveller. The sky spanned above her as she headed for the bridge, patches of washed out blue peeking through crisp clouds that moved hastily across the morning sky. She trudged along through the ankle deep snow following the tracks of the visitor until she reached to opposite side of the bridge and the entrance to the forest lay before her like a giant mouth, ready to devour anyone that stepped inside without the king's leave.

She turned around once more, glancing back one last time at the palace across the bridge and a mixture of melancholy and sorrow overcame her. After all she did have some very precious memories of the rare but intimate moments she had shared with Thranduil. Should all this now be something of the past? Or was there still a future for her in the king's realm, or more importantly, in his heart? Doubts about the rightfulness of her endeavour poked her conscience, but she had already gone too far to turn back again. And in the end her intention was not to run away but to be reunited with Thranduil once more.

"Good bye," she whispered, adding in a more resolute tone "I will be back. With the king by my side."

* * *

With a deep sigh she turned away from the Elvenking's halls and made her way into the forest. The dome of thick branches above her quickly hid the sky from her view and somehow it was like being swallowed by a long tunnel, strangely isolated from the rest of the world, the vegetation thickening quickly as she strode on. Soon the snow was reduced to small patches on the ground and some carelessly sprinkled branches until it had nearly receded completely, revealing the forest floor almost as it used to be in autumn, a thick rug of fallen and crumpled leaves, painting the way with a gloomy brown and a sickly green, rustling eerily beneath her feet as she moved on. Ancient oaks with their trunks as mighty as they were gnarled lined her path, the branches of slender beeches and lithe birches webbing themselves together high above her, shutting out whatever little sunshine there might have been in the wintry sky above. Although it was still only in the morning it was already dim like in the late hours of a grey November day.

There was still no need for her to check her map as the first leg of her journey would be leading her through familiar territory. After all she had been out here numerous times with Legolas and Tauriel. Still, everything felt quite different now, not one to talk to, no one to lead the way, but if she held on to the path leading south-east and did not stray from it she was going to be fine. At least that was what she told herself.

At first she was in high spirits as she made good time and was advancing swiftly along the clearly laid out pathway, the reassuring gurgling of the Forest River in her ears. She even hummed the tune that Faeldir and Amardir had written to accompany their poem for her and kicked a twig or two following the rhythm of the song.

As she made her way deeper into the forest the air gradually became unmoving and stuffy, filling her lungs with a shadow of foreboding and drowning out her joyful melody. She trotted along silently as the voices of the forest floated around her in eerie curiosity and the unsettling feeling that she was being watched grew inside her at an alarming rate. She tightened her cloak around her shoulders and pulled her hood up, providing her with a slight sense of more security, although she knew that whoever was watching her would not be fooled by a cloak or a hood. After all, magic could unmask whatever disguise, and she was no elf, but only a human resembling a lost little bird trapped in the cage of a strange forest. And talking about birds, they or rather their absence was another one of those peculiar additions to these woods that contributed to her feeling of unease. Although she knew that she was not heading towards the even more dangerous, spider-infested areas of the forest, which lay north-west of the Elvenking's palace, she still found only strange creatures along her way, some of them a sickly pale and long gone blind in the darkness, slithering along silently. Black squirrels scuttled along the forest floor, quickly darting from tree to tree, their branches weighed down heavily by an overgrowth of ivy and lichen.

She tried to stay focused on her pathway and marched on, only stopping briefly to take a few bites from her _lembas_ and some refreshing gulps of water. But she had to be wise with her provisions, rationing them carefully, especially the water, the only source of drinkable water being the Forest River. As long as she kept close enough to its riverbed, she should be fine.

* * *

The first night came as a shock to her. Whatever she had thought it was going to be, it was nothing like it. The air hummed with the strangest noises, creeping under her skin and if she closed her eyes she could feel the presence of many unseen creatures, invisible to her eyes, her imagination taking over the lead and painting them in the most gruesome and awkward colours. She wished dearly that she had brought more than one blanket to wrap herself so she could pull at least three of them over her head and hide from the floating menace of these haunted woods. She was shivering and not only from the cold, but fear that crept into her heart, she had never felt so alone and at nature's mercy than that first night in the forest.

Her adventurous spirit was considerably dampened by the harsh reality of freezing temperatures and the fact that it was pitch dark. She could not even see her hand in front of her eyes, let alone her surroundings. Of course she had no source of light and she knew nothing of starting a fire in the wild, so all she could do was wrap herself with the one blanket she had and hope that it would shield her enough from the low temperatures to hopefully wake up next morning alive and not dead.

She did in fact wake up unharmed, but started her second day in a slightly more subdued mood after this sobering experience, which might have been called many things but magical was not one of them. Still, surprisingly her blanket had kept her warm enough, despite the freezing temperatures so maybe the possibility of some protective elven magic should not be ruled out completely. She munched on her frugal breakfast and then quickly packed her things to move ahead. The pathway still lay clearly ahead of her, so she shouldered her backpack and went on. Treading carefully through the thick layers of rotten leaves that were threatening to bury the pathway beneath them, she kept her eyes on the ground most of the time, allowing her mind to drift. Thranduil's face appeared before her inner eye and the way he had looked at her when she had given him her promise. The affection in his eyes still warmed her heart, only to be quickly frozen by the guilt that laid itself like a coat of ice around her heart. Everything that she was doing now was a defiance of his wish wanting her to be safe and wait for his return. But how could she have stayed behind when he was walking into a battle? How could she wait and do nothing, when his life was in danger? If he was killed, her only reason to stay in this strange world was gone too. She had mulled this over already a million times in her head, but no matter how she looked at it, her only option was to do what she had set out to do.

The remainder of the second day passed without any other incidents, although she seemed to be rather slowing down than advancing considerably, but she attributed that to her body simply not being used to this type of physical exertion, being on her feet all day, only pausing to eat and drink and move on again.

But she had to admit that the uniformity of her surroundings presented her with a serious problem. Everything started to look the same after a while. As she walked on she could have sworn that she had passed the same spot already several times. Grey were the trunks, the ancient barks watching her with their sad faces, observing her every step, hoping for her to falter and get lost. But she would not give them that satisfaction, she would walk on, stay on the path and find her way through this cursed thicket. Find her way to Thranduil, the king of her heart. She would laugh in their twisted faces and show them that she, a little human, would pass through their intimidating pillars alive.

Rather sooner than later her self-confidence was put to the test as it proved increasingly difficult for her to even tell for sure where the path lay. At times it seemed broken or it lost itself in the dense undergrowth or worse: it seemed to divide itself into several smaller pathways.

And she hit another obstacle that she had not considered before: how would she orient herself in the depths of the forest with no chance of seeing even the smallest bit of sky above her? There was no sun and there were no stars at night that would reveal anything about her position. Not that she was an expert in those things, but with only the map and no other point of reference her endeavour would be turning out quite more complicated than she had foreseen. Even the change from daytime to nighttime was only a shifting from a gloomy dark green to an even darker shade of green until all light was shut out and the pitch black night shrouded everything in depressing darkness. So she spent her second night shielded by the thick undergrowth in between two beeches, which offered her a more or less comfortable shelter. She was exhausted and once she had pulled her blanket over her head to shut out all possible dangers she fell immediately into a deep sleep.

* * *

When she opened her eyes the next morning feeling all stiff and uncomfortable she scrambled to her feet after her quick breakfast and took at judgemental look at the forest as it lay in deceptive tranquillity before her, thick, dark and gloomy. She pulled out her map in an automatic motion, only to realise that this would not help her here in this forest, and with a deep sigh she put it away again. This piece of parchment she had hoped to rely on turned out to be quite useless in the face of this strange forest where the pathways seemed to shift at will.

Following her calculations the thickness of the vegetation should have already receded, but quite the opposite was the case. She was now starting the third day of her journey and the woods seemed to grow ever thicker. Frustration knocked at her heart and she was not quite able to hold much against it. It seemed to her that the forest had conspired against her. Was this maybe the king's way of making sure that she would not leave his kingdom? Forcing her to turn around and walk back to the palace?

Wherever she would turn, it was a dead end, it was as if the forest grew new branches and roots as she was trying to pass them by, forcing her to take another turn, leading her yet into another unwanted direction. It had not actually harmed her and nothing had yet attacked her, but it seemed rather like an overly watchful sentinel, making sure that she would not leave its boundaries. The forest did not exactly behave hostile towards her, but it was also far from being friendly and helpful. So even if she had succeeded in sneaking out of the palace, she was stuck now. Every move of hers brought upon another countermove, it seemed that the forest was playing chess with her and it was about to checkmate her once and for all.

Still she could hear the rushing of the Forest River not so far away, which meant she was not totally off course. So instead of following the ever changing and not to be trusted pathway she decided to head for the river instead. She anyway needed to replenish her water, so it would be a necessary detour for her to make. The undergrowth though did not let her through willingly and if it weren't for her thick cloak and her gloves she would have ended up with deep scratches along her arms. Still it was nearly impossible for her to shield her face completely from the hostile thorns and pointy twigs and more than once she flinched at the stinging pain as she struggled to squeeze through the thicket and she felt a piercing sting as another particularly nasty thorn dug into her cheek. A burning sensation bloomed instantly on her face and warm blood trickled down her side and into her mouth. Muttering curses under her breath she went on, slower still and eventually crawling on all fours as the vegetation closed in even more around her.

Under different circumstances she might have just pulled out her sword and cut away the branches in question, but she was quite sure that this was not a wise move. She had learned as much in her outings with Legolas and Tauriel that this forest would most possibly defend itself against any type of attack and she had no particular wish to be crushed to death by upset branches lashing out to her or infuriated roots trying to swallow her alive. The bruises to her face would only be a minor casualty in comparison with all the other attacks she was sure the forest would have in store for her. At least she told herself that if she made it to the river, she would be able to see the sky above her once more and she would be able to wash off the blood that had begun to mix with the dirt from the ground as she made her way crawling like a beast in the woods.

* * *

As the rushing of the water drew ever nearer she picked up her pace as much as the vegetation would allow it, roots digging into her knees and her hair tangling with the branches from above.

Finally she saw the glimmer of daylight shining through the web of twigs ahead of her. The river was near! Just a few more metres and she would push through the edge of the thicket and then the steep bank lay before her. She squinted her eyes at the unexpected exposure to the brightness of the snow and the sky, although it was as a matter of fact overcast and a glum grey, but in comparison to the stuffy darkness in the woods it was a revelation, the first breath of fresh air since she had entered the forest a few days ago. She quickly scanned her surroundings and found near her a steep and narrow pathway that lead down to a small bank by the river. It was an ideal spot for her to refresh herself and refill her water supply. Throwing all caution to the wind she climbed down the narrow ledge until she reached the bank that was only a small spot surrounded by overhanging branches, heavily laden with snow. She dropped her backpack carelessly to the ground beside her, pulled off her gloves and kneeled beside the river, dipping her face into the icy floods, the cold current prickling on her skin and washing away the blood and dirt from her face. She scrubbed her face clean and pulled out her waterskins to refill them with fresh water which tasted delicious on her parched throat and filled her body with renewed energy.

Taking another bite from her store of _lembas_ she decided to stay for a while, enjoying the crisp air and organise her belongings that had gotten all shaken up during her journey. She also untied her scabbard and put her sword carefully beside it. Although she had not yet needed it she was still grateful for this more than generous gift, and she could not help but wonder who had been the original owner of this kingly weapon. She cleaned the blade diligently from the residues of earth until the curved metal gleamed again in its silvery perfection. Looking at its elegant shape she was once more reminded of the twin swords Thranduil carried with him, deadly weapons in the hands of a skilled warrior like him. She could only hope that it would not get to the point where she indeed would have to defend herself with her sword, considering that her knowledge of sword fighting only went as far as holding it and swinging it around in a more or less aimless way. The chances of harming herself in a fight were considerably higher than inflicting an injury on her opponent. She grinned wryly at her own sarcasm, but decided to put that unnerving thought aside for now and allow her eyes to wander across the incessantly murmuring water in front of her. The strong current prevented the river from freezing over despite the cold temperatures and for a moment her gaze was lost in the rippling waves that danced beneath the dull wintry sky with speckles of silver and crystal blue.

With her eyes fixed on the surface of the water in front of her, she had not noticed that there was an added sound to the rushing of the river, a rhythmical paddling cutting through the steady purling of the stream and drawing nearer to where she was sitting. Her eyes darted downstream as she was suddenly aware of the increasing noise approaching her. Not far off in the distance she could make out the silhouette of a raft with at least two people on it stirring it upstream. If she lingered much longer, they would surely see her and she did not want to risk being discovered. Most likely those were Raft-elves returning from Lake Esgaroth to the palace. Despite them having to work against the current they were moving at an alarmingly fast rate, so she quickly stuffed her belongings back into her backpack and scrambled to her feet while she worked to readjust her cloak. She could see them already clearly as they drew ever closer to her spot that would not be secret any more quite soon. Why on earth had she decided to take off her scabbard and her sword? Now she had to fumble hard to put both back in place and while she struggled to pull her gloves over her clammy and humid hands the raft swiftly floated upstream. Quickly now, she grabbed her backpack and headed for the pathway that luckily lay half covered beneath some overhanging branches. Still, she had to move quickly out of sight, as elves had a keen eyesight and still might be able to spot her, especially since the dark green of her cloak stood out clearly against the white of the snow. She could not risk them discovering her and taking her back to the palace. She scrambled upwards on all fours, earth, snow and crumpled leaves sticking to her gloves and knees, not looking back, moving forward as fast as she could, back into the cover of the forest. Faster, she had to move faster. She dragged along her backpack on the ground with one hand as there had not been any time for her to put in on her back. The branches and twigs seemed more hostile than ever, stubbornly standing in her way, refusing to bend, poking their pointy ends at her and resulting in more nasty scratches on her face, but she did not heed the pain as she had only one thought on her mind: hide and hide fast!

* * *

Only when she was sure that she was far enough away from the river and safely out of sight beneath the dense vegetation of the forest, she finally stopped, dropping her backpack to the ground beside her. She gasped for air, bending forward, her arms clutched around her waist to relieve the painful stitches in her sides. Her heartbeat was racing like a thunderstorm, adrenalin rushing through her veins, cold sweat on her face as she dropped to her knees, trembling with exhaustion.

The fact that she had to flee in a rush had left her totally disoriented. She inhaled deeply, blood pulsating through her head in a wild rhythm, trying hard to keep her calm and not let despair take her. All her efforts of staying on course had been shattered to pieces. Yes, she had gotten fresh water, but at what cost! She had no idea where she was. There was no pathway in sight and she seemed to have taken a different turn when she scrambled back from the river. For all she knew this could be the end of her. No one would ever find her and she would never find her way out of this cursed forest.

And there it was, despair didn't even bother knocking but simply flooded her heart and the dam of her already crumbling confidence was washed away by the torrents of misery. She sat under the gloomy dome of Mirkwood and tears were streaming down her face, her heart floating ever closer to the abyss of despair. All she could think of was Thranduil's face and his eyes of crystal blue and the warmth of his slender hands as they closed around hers. Never would this blissful feeling be hers again.

And then the agony of having lost what she loved most overcame her and she slumped to the ground and allowed her tears to flow freely. Her hands dug into the dirt beneath them, squishing the damp and cold mixture of earth and leaves in between her fingers as frustrated rage burned in her heart and bitter disappointment stormed through her veins. The saltiness of her tears mixed with the warmth of the blood that trickled from her scratches, watering the ground beneath her with what spilled from the wounds of her body and soul. She cried out her despair into the depths of the woods, cursing the fate that had thrown her into this pit of desolation only to leave her to bleed out her human life in the fangs of this unforgiving forest.

When all her tears were finally spent and had receded into muffled sobs she lay on the ground for a long while, her breathing slowing down to a normal pace and she looked up into the tangled net of branches and twigs, her hand sliding into her pocket and closing around the rather tatty remains of Thranduil's cloth, feeling the silkiness beneath her fingers and a small spark of hope rekindled in her heart. Somewhere in this strange world his heart was still beating, she was suddenly sure of it and if she only tried hard enough then she would see him again. She brought the fabric to her face drenching it with the remnants of blood and tears, darks spots blooming on the silvery grey where the blood had soaked it. She closed her fist around it and whispered to herself: "I will not give up. Not in the face of death and defeat. I will not be intimidated. I will stand by my word." She scrambled to her feet and brushed off the wet earth and leaves that clung to her tunic and cloak. "I will find the king and I will not rest until I have found him!" she shouted into the forest, the trees bearing witness to her renewed oath.

She took a deep breath and slid the fabric back into the pocket beside the poem and the crumpled map, shouldered her backpack and was ready to set out once again. Scratched and bruised, but not defeated she glanced into the gloomy depths ahead of her, a fierce glow in her eyes and renewed determination in her heart.

* * *

Carefully she made her way across the gnarled roots and through the dense thickets, making sure that this time she would be more cautious with the menacing thorns and twigs and marched on wherever her feet would take her, simply following the compass of her heart. The map had been a failure, so she might as well try something different and simply drift along. She took in even more details along the way, many trees hunched and huddled together as if they themselves were afraid of something, saddened by the loss of the life they once had.

As she opened her heart to her surroundings, her fear and anger gradually turned to curiosity and something like empathy began to grow inside her.

And slowly she began to understand the magic that had been woven into these woods in ages long forgotten, when the world was young and this forest was green, sunlit and beautiful, full of life. The elves had filled it with their souls and their spirit floated through it in endless melodies. The rustling of the leaves, the chirping of the birds, the gurgling of the waters, all those voices were part of a bigger orchestra, weaving together a symphony that sung of the bond in between the Wood-elves and their forest that was as deep as it was everlasting. Forever intertwined one suffered when the other one was hurt and thrived as the other one blossomed. And when the darkness came, growth turned to decay and light turned to shadow. The darkness that lay on the forest was none other than the one that also lay on Thranduil's heart and only if it was defeated both would be free again.

She could only imagine the beauty that once must have resided within Greenwood the Great, for beneath all the crooked gloominess and the endless layers of ivy and lichen one could still perceive the faded grace of an ancient primeval forest that had stood proud and tall in the days of old.

She had walked for hours on end, barely allowing herself any rest, crossing a part of the woods that looked just as dark, dense and gloomy as all the others she had passed. Before she would collapse somewhere on the way she decided to rest for the night as she noticed that the light was starting to dim already.

She dumped her backpack on the ground with a muffled thud and leaned against the gnarled bark of an especially withered oak, slowly slumping down towards the moss covered roots.

If she was indeed lost and had no idea where she was heading to, she might as well camp here for the night and try her luck again in the morning. This place was a good as any, the fanned out roots and some low lying branches offering at least some kind of meagre shelter from the elements. And she had learned to prepare herself before darkness caught up with her like it did on the first night, drowning her in its unexpected absoluteness.

It was far from comfortable, the roots poking in her back and her lumpy backpack resembling a very far off imitation of a pillow. But she had to make do with what was available and at least under this wide oak the moss had grown thick enough to provide her with some sort of cushioning. At last she dozed off into a deep slumber.

And then the tree sang to her in a tune both familiar and strange. A song of places she had been and people she had known. It filled her heart with voices long forgotten and glances lost in time. Eyes searching but never finding.

 _When is she coming back?_ _Where is she? Why has she left us?_ It sounded from the depths of the darkness.

 _Hopefully soon. I don't know. She will be back,_ came the answers, although still calming, disbelief rang through them.

The voices rose to a choir, ever louder and more dissonant, one voice trying to drown out the others until all were dancing in her head, filling her every thought with their accusatory rhythm, questions and answers fencing with each other until everything melted into an indistinguishable concoction of sounds, painting a colourful tapestry of vivid images from a life that was once hers. Her mind dived in, gratefully absorbing every little detail, flashes of bright colours, rays of sunlight and dances in the rain, eyes of emerald blinking at her, a high clear laugh ringing through and a sweet embrace filling her heart with joy.

The next morning she woke up with a smile on her face and an inexplicable fuzzy and warm feeling in her chest. She wanted to immerse herself again in those images, hold on to the feeling of belonging somewhere in the midst of nowhere. But she could not go back there, she had already emerged too far from her dream and the ocean of memories was receding rapidly as she opened her eyes and looked around, realising that she was still trapped in this forest.

She knew in her heart that there was something valuable that she had lost and that she needed to recover, just like Thranduil had his memento to reclaim. But what exactly that was she could not tell anymore as the pieces of her dream fell apart like a mosaic, leaving her heart both empty and full.

For the first time in months she had been allowed a glimpse into her past and for the first time she knew that indeed there was someone that had meant something to her and to whom she must have meant something too.

Someone who was waiting for her to return.

To be continued…

* * *

 _Author's Notes: This proved to be the hardest chapter to write as of yet, because I needed to convey a sense of being stagnant without being actually boring, of getting lost without losing my own goal I had in mind for this portion of the story._ _I felt a bit like Harry, Ron and Hermione wandering around aimlessly in search of those Horcruxes._ _But nevertheless, I hope you have enjoyed it :)_

 _Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 15^^!_


	16. A Matter of Loyalty

_WHAT?! This story has already reached 100 reviews?! How cool is that! *throws confetti* A BIG thank you goes out to_ _Lydwina Marie, thrndlwood and aliyahzombie who have reviewed the previous chapter! The Elvenking appreciates your loyalty, so to speak :D!_

 _And now onwards to the next one, where we find ourselves back with Thranduil in Dale :)!_

* * *

 _Chapter 15 - A Matter of Loyalty_

Icy gusts brought with them the first flurries of snow, donning the barren wasteland a short-lived beautiful blanket of glittering white. The negotiations with the dwarves had been futile, just as Thranduil had expected and now the Mountain lay under siege, a leaden silence burying the whole valley as everyone waited; waited for something to happen. But the idleness was soon to be replaced by a nascent bustle as the respective sides began their preparations for what might lie ahead.

The dwarves would not yield, but Thranduil was still hesitant about going to war, not wanting to give up hope that there could actually be a peaceful solution to all of this. But the prospects did not look too good he had to admit, Bard's attempt to discuss terms with Thorin Oakenshield only proving once more the obstinate stubbornness the dwarves exhibited. It was exasperating, the dwarves were even worse than the humans when it came to proving that they were right.

So it would most likely boil down to a war, a war in between Elves and Men on one side and Dwarves on the other side. Thranduil did not like the taste of that, not at all. Thorin seemed far too confident, surely he must have something hidden up his sleeve, more likely some dwarvish allies that would come to their aid and give the attackers a hard time. And as if that was not enough to give even an Elvenking a headache there was still the threat of an orcish attack looming overhead, as Mithrandir's words rang loud and clear in his head.

The Elvenking impatiently drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he pondered these scenarios, all of them equally depressing and dreadful. With an exasperated sigh he rose from his seat, pushing aside his glass of wine like he wished to whisk away the obstacles barring his way to the treasure he so much desired. His eyes were drawn to the gleaming black armour of his as it rested peacefully on its armour stand. Perfectly polished and impeccably shiny, his servants had made sure of it, he almost could see his own reflection on the smooth surface. Surely soon enough that would no longer be the case, he thought to himself bitterly, the harsh reality of the slaughter that meant war would leave its merciless markings on all of their lives. If they were lucky enough to make it through alive.

The wizard had left Thranduil in a considerable state of unrest, not only had he fuelled his own concerns about the possibility of Sauron arising once more. This was a definite threat that had to be taken seriously, but it had not come as a surprise. He had known that this was bound to happen eventually, since the evil spirit could never really be eradicated, only banished and at best kept in check.

The agitation he felt was more due to the unexpected knowledge Mithrandir had displayed about Anna's existence and the sudden interest, or more likely interference, in his private life. Something he strictly wished to keep exactly that: private. Why on Arda would the wizard even concern himself with this surely insignificant detail? Did he not have more pressing matters to attend to? The way he had simply breached the Elvenking's tightly knitted confines to lay bare the thorns that had tortured his heart for way too long was as remarkable as it was unsettling. It left him vulnerable and exposed, both things he could not afford and therefore needed to be pushed back into their hidden quarters.

Maybe after this quest, if he got back alive and she was still there, he would find the strength to finally open up his heart to her. In the meantime he had to keep his heart as well as his head in place if he did not want this final attempt to reclaim his wife's necklace to have been in vain. Failure was not an option for the proud Elvenking.

He tore his eyes away from the armour, hoping to occupy his mind with something less troublesome. But trying to push one worry aside only helped unearthing another one: since their arrival in Lake-town he had been hoping to get a glimpse of his son and Tauriel, but no trace of either of them was to be seen. Their absence fuelled his concerns as much as it augmented his wish for reconciliation. He should never have sent Legolas on his way with such harsh words. Fear that he might have forever closed the door to his son's heart had begun to gnaw at his own heart.

It had been an outrage, Tauriel leaving without his consent, going after the dwarves on her own accord. Those dwarves had been a headache from the moment he had them dragged into his halls, causing even more trouble as they left, with Anna as their unaware helper in their bold escape. Mayhem had risen in his palace, the prisoners gone, his head of guard head over heels after them, his son chasing both dwarves and elf guard, and in the midst of it all Anna's unbelievable confession, something that he had not seen coming at all. Thranduil had thought of himself as knowledgable and blessed with the gift of foresight like so many of his kin, but he had to admit that he had underestimated her stubbornness and what he initially considered blatant thoughtlessness, an opinion he had come to revise after she had laid out her motives. But then again, she was not the only rebellious person in his realm as he had been painfully made aware of, when his own son had displayed such incredible insistence in going after Tauriel and on top of it even had defended her actions with such ardor, that Thranduil had seen no other way than to order him to bring her back, or else she would be banished. It was the feeling of losing control that caused him such considerable unrest, after all he was the king. He needed to make sure his kingdom would not fall to pieces. And the tighter he held the reins, the fiercer was the resistance he met.

* * *

Restless were the king's steps as he paced the confined space of his royal tent, brows furrowed and arms clasped behind his back, his mind caught up in never ending worries, when someone tentatively cleared his throat behind him.

"My lord?" It was he soft spoken voice of Faeldir. "May I have a word with you?"

For once he was glad to have been interrupted in his thoughts, for none of them were pleasant ones. He turned around, the young elf lingering expectantly at the entrance awaiting the king's answer. As part of Thranduil's army he had exchanged his usual blue tunic for the mottled green and earth brown one of the Mirkwood soldiers. It made for a pleasant view as it carried within it the deep green of his eyes and golden brown of his hair, the delicate curves of his face subtly enhanced by the flickering light of the torches that illuminated Thranduil's tent.

Thranduil greeted him with a benevolent smile and bade him to come in with a languid wave of his hand. "Yes, of course."

With a thankful nod Faeldir followed the king's invitation and stepped closer, gladly taking the glass of wine offered to him. "Thank you, my lord. I can quite use a sip of wine tonight."

Thranduil knitted his brow as he noticed a slight shadow of distress darkening the good-natured face of Faeldir. He reached out for his own glass of wine and returned to his ornately carven wooden chair, his cloak bunching around the armrests in abundant waves of deepest burgundy.

"Please have a seat and then do tell me what aggrieves you."

Faeldir made himself comfortable on a more modest but still lavishly cushioned bench facing the king, drowning his initial nervousness in one big sip of wine.

Thranduil eyed him curiously, hoping strongly that there were not yet more bad tidings waiting to be revealed.

Faeldir gulped down the liquid, still holding on to the glass after he had finished.

"My lord, I know that war may be waiting for us out there and although I am ready to face battle, I do have to admit that it scares me." Wanting to get ahead of a possible admonition, he added quickly "Please do not think lowly of me, I am most honoured to fight alongside such a great warrior like you my lord, but still," he hesitated, "I wish that I could be more confident."

"What exactly is it that lessens your confidence?" Thranduil casually crossed his legs, the lengthy robe parting at his waist and cascading around his thighs in silvery layers.

After a moment of hesitation Faeldir found the courage to speak: "My thoughts are with my father now more than ever. And after having seen the destruction the dragon has brought upon Lake-town, I cannot help but wonder what really happened that day when he died." The last words left Faeldir's mouth almost inaudibly. Still, there was resolve in his eyes. "My brother refuses to give me any details, but I think I have a right to know, after all, if I am old enough to go to war I am old enough to learn about his last moments."

Thranduil looked at the elf before him, the effort it must have cost him to gather up the courage and come to him with such a question was clearly written all over Faeldir's tense face. But against his usual impulse of brushing off such a request with well chosen but harsh words he only said:

"Very well. It is only a fair request that you should learn of your father and his fate."

He brought the glass of wine to his lips and watched Faeldir over the rim of it, the expression on the young elf's face oscillating in between anxious anticipation and humble gratitude.

"Thank you, my lord. You cannot imagine how much this means to me." The small smile that lifted the corners of his mouth gradually melted away the tension.

Thranduil diligently placed the glass back on the table beside him and folded his hands in his lap, determinedly ignoring the slight tremble in his bejewelled fingers. Upholding his usual aura of aloofness in the light of what he was about to reveal would require all his self-restraint, but after all, he was the king, he could not allow himself an uncontrolled display of emotions, notwithstanding the disturbing memories he surely would be unearthing. Only an inaudible sigh escaped Thranduil as he began his aggrieving recollections:

"The day we faced the dragon many lives were lost, too many, and your father Elhadron was one of them. But his deeds will never be forgotten."

A subtle tilt of his head towards Faeldir accompanied those last words.

"Your father was a courageous warrior, never would he have left my side, not even in the moment when death was upon him. Not a trace of fear was in his eyes as the swirling heat filled the air, only the dark shadow of grief, knowing that he would not return, never to see his wife and sons again."

Faeldir's eyes widened both in sorrow and awe at these words. Never had he heard the king speak in such a personal manner about his father. The remorse rang through Thranduil's words as he continued:

"He had advised me not to go to Erebor, but I had set his concerns at naught and when he warned me of the evil effect the dragon's words would have, I listened not to the one who spoke the truth."

Thranduil clenched his jaw, his skin numb to the pain as his fingernails dug into his own flesh.

"All I could think of was my wife in the hands of those foul creatures. The fear of losing her had crept into my every thought and clouded my judgement. I was deaf to the words of wisdom and my blind desire for retribution was an ill advisor."

The words left Thranduil's mouth only slowly, as guilt laid its iron claws around the Elvenking's tormented heart.

"Your father was wise enough to see through the evil web the dragon had spun around me, he saw it clearly for what it was: a ruthless trap, carefully laid out to bring me down, break my defence and destroy me. But he could not let that happen, not while there was still a breath of life left inside him."

Faeldir hung on Thranduil's every word, shifting to the edge of his seat and his fingers wrapped tightly around the glass of wine as the heroic image of his own father rose in his mind's eye.

"When my first stroke hit the dragon I was paralysed, my hands gripping the sword that threatened to drag me to the ground. Your father's face seemed to float amid all the haze that surrounded us, his eyes pleading and his words beseeching. I looked at him, but I did not see, I remember his voice calling out to me through the swirling heat, but I did not hear."

After a moment of silence Thranduil said quietly:

"So he did the only thing he found in his loyal heart: he took the blow that was meant to be mine."

A sharp breeze rustled through the drapes as Thranduil's words painted those gruesome images, the distant past rising again from the shadows of fire and smoke.

"And then there was only fire, fierce and deadly, the red flames driving the air from his lungs, his eyes wide in shock as the flames consumed him, the sizzling heat melting the flesh off of his bones like wax and in the blink of an eye he was gone, his body pulverised, a cloud of grey and black ashes swirling beneath the dull sky, a fateful warning of what would become of all of us if the dragon were to claim victory in the end."

Faeldir held his breath as the harrowing details of his father's death unfurled before him. Thranduil's voice had dropped even lower as he descended into those dark regions of his soul, his aura of autocratic grandeur gradually slipping away and revealing the subtle shades of empathy beneath it as he continued his tale of loyalty and sacrifice.

"The only thing that remained of your father was his shield that he had thrust in front of me, his last means to protect me from the dragon's wrath, even beyond his own death. But still, he could not prevent the inevitable and when the dragon's breath finally brushed my face a wave of searing pain engulfed me and I tumbled to the ground and lost consciousness. For how long I lay there I do not know, it might have been an eternity or only an instant, for all I knew it could have been both. As I teetered at the edge of the void I stared blindly into the darkness that stretched eternally and impenetrable in its blackness before me. But I could not let go, not yet, not until my appointed task was done. So I willed myself to stay and face the duty that had been placed on me. I swore to myself that your father's sacrifice would not have been in vain and that I would stake my life on slaying that beast and wresting my wife from the claws of evil. But as you well know this was not how that day ended."

Thranduil had lowered his head, staring intently at the entwined fingers in his lap, his voice wavering as the emotions threatened to spill out of their confined vessel that was his tightly regimented heart.

"The dragon was slain indeed and so were many of the orcs that had come to the beast's aid. We left more dead than alive and the ground was watered with the blood of friend and foe. But my wife —. All help came too late for her."

He reached out for the armrests, his fingers gripping the wood until his knuckles turned white to brace himself against the surging wave of grief as best as he could. He did not want to shatter the impression Faeldir had of him, his steadfast leader, least of all now that he had come to him with his preoccupations about the possible battle lying ahead.

The old Elvenking and the young soldier both quietly mourned their losses, when the rustling of the curtains cut through the silent stream of unspoken words.

* * *

"My lord, please forgive my intrusion." Amardir bowed curtly to the king, the tent's heavy drapes billowing behind him as he entered at a brisk pace, urgency clearly on his heels.

Amardir's likeness to his brother was even more striking in his attire of Mirkwood's soldiers, his face now more austere than ever and the unmistakable air of duty surrounding him.

Thranduil quickly eased back into his usual self of languid superiority as he addressed the newly entered elf: "Please do come in."

Amardir's gaze was drawn from the king to the elf on the bench and he raised an eyebrow in surprise when he spotted no other than his brother on said bench, a glass of wine in his hand. A questioning look and an apologetic glance were exchanged in between the two when Thranduil said:

"You are not intruding at all, I was only having a long overdue conversation with your brother, which you are more than welcome to join in."

Amardir's face went blank for an instant, prompting Thranduil to add: "About your father."

Amardir nodded slowly to then state quite matter-of-factly: "I see that my brother has finally worked up the courage to get the answers he has been seeking," and directed to his brother in a slightly reproachful tone: "Why did you not come to me first?"

"I did, many times. But you would only ever give me evasive answers or tell me that I was too young," Faeldir countered stubbornly, "I felt that it was about time for me to know the truth. So I came to the one who last saw our father alive." With a thankful glance towards Thranduil he added "And I am glad I did."

With a resigned sigh and the onset of a defeated half-smile playing around the corners of his lips Amardir said: "Then I shall be glad too."

There was a distinct trace of worry on Amardir's face that did not escape Thranduil's notice.

"I see that there is something on your mind. Do tell me what brought you here with such urgency."

"I do bring word from your son and Tauriel," Amardir responded dutifully.

"Legolas?" Thranduil leaned slightly forward, eager and anxious to hear what else Amardir would have to say: "What do you know of them?"

"We have just received word from our messengers that they have been seen riding north."

"North? Were the messengers not more precise? Where did they go?"

But he knew the answer to his question already before Amardir had said another word. There was only one place that they could have been possibly headed if they were still in pursuit of those foul creatures. His hands tightened again around the armrests. It was the only thing revealing the anxiousness coursing through his veins.

Amardir lowered his voice to a rather subdued tone: "Gundabad, the orc stronghold, that is where they went."

Thranduil's heart sank at the mention of this hateful place as the cold hand of despair closed in on him and all he could think of was: Not this cursed place. Not again. Not my son.

He rose from his seat rather hurriedly, Faeldir obediently following suit, and began wordlessly pacing back and forth, hands clasped firmly behind his back, his cloak obediently trailing behind him in brisk waves. The two brothers exchanged meaningful looks as they watched their king in his silent determination, the crease on his forehead deepening as his thoughts circled around his son and Tauriel and the danger they had put themselves into. His eyes were caught in the flames of one of the torches illuminating his tent, images of death and destruction evolving from within the flickering heat.

Was this dreadful place going to haunt him forever? Was there never an end to all the suffering?

He turned away from the fire, his hands now firmly folded in front to keep his perfectly composed facade from crumbling.

"How long have they been gone?" he inquired with a small inclination of his head towards Amardir.

"Not more than a few days time, my lord."

Thranduil's gaze lingered on Amardir, the grey eyes of Elhadron staring back tauntingly at him, dark brown tresses framing his solemn face.

"Do you wish for me to go after them?" he proposed upon seeing the unrest in Thranduil's eyes. He shot a sideways glance at his brother, indicating him to be silent. Thranduil took a moment to consider his offer. He knew that it was impossible for himself to go, he could and would not abandon this quest, but still he could not bear the thought of Legolas and Tauriel unknowingly walking into a possible trap. This task had to be appointed to someone trustworthy. Someone that was both cautious and fearless.

With a solemn nod Thranduil said: "Find them and be sure to make haste."

"Yes, my lord." Amardir bowed while his brother could not contain himself anymore.

"I will go with you brother." And with a nonchalant shrug he added: "Two is better than one."

But Thranduil would not hear of it.

"Your brother will go alone. It will be easier for him to go unnoticed and he will be faster this way. Besides I need you here by my side, I would rather not have to spare the both of you."

"But I do not want him to go to this place alone, not after all that I have heard from your own mouth about it." Faeldir was clearly unhappy about his brother's over-zealous sense of duty.

"Your brother surely can take care of himself."

The king's words were reinforced by a vigorous nod from Amardir. "Yes, indeed, I can and I will."

Faeldir wanted to mouth another protest, but was silenced by a wave of the Elvenking's hand. "This is my last word. You will stay here."

Reluctantly Faeldir complied, knowing very well when not to push the king's patience any further. He swallowed his argument, replacing it with a strained "Yes, of course."

Thranduil now turned again to Amardir, who was waiting to receive the king's orders.

"You will leave as soon as you can. Make sure you take one of the fast horses and ride north on the swiftest path."

"Yes, my lord." Amardir bowed again and grabbed his still truculent brother by the elbow to steer him towards the exit.

"Faeldir!" the king called him back as he was being led away by his brother. "There is something I want you to have."

Thranduil walked over to one of the large chests in the back of the tent and after some rummaging he returned with an oval shaped object, carefully wrapped in a heavy cloth of dark grey that had clearly suffered through the ages, placing it on the table in front of him. Motioning at Faeldir he said: "Open it up."

Faeldir exchanged a quick glance with his brother and when the elder nodded in approval he proceeded to swiftly unravel the gift, fingers trembling with excitement. Out of the multiple layers emerged a battered shield, the exquisite design still shining through the savage damage that had been inflicted upon it. The surface of matted gold lay now dull and pitiful before Faeldir's eager eyes. Hesitantly he extended his hands and allowed his fingers to glide over the rugged surface. He did not need to ask, he knew that this was their father's shield, the one he had used to defend the king, the only thing of their father that somehow miraculously had survived the flames, a silent witness of an act of bravery and loyalty that would now never be forgotten. With satisfaction Thranduil watched the young elf as he silently took in the details of the once so refined and now mutilated object of defence. Numerous dents deformed the metallic surface and several rows of deep cracks cut through the coiling vines that adorned this impressive piece of excellent elvish smithery. The flames as well as Angoroth's talons had left their vicious imprints, a visible memory of the fierce trial of strength so long ago.

Amardir was the one who broke the silence, his eyebrows raised in scepticism. "How is it that we have never seen this before?"

Thranduil met the slight accusation ringing through his words with calm dignity.

"I have kept this in my possession with the intention of having it reforged, but some things cannot be mended. They are broken beyond repair," he said with bitterness in his voice. "It will not serve you any more in battle." Thranduil lifted the shield up in the air, feeling the weight in his hands. "But it might serve you as a memento, knowing that your father's sacrifice will always be remembered."

With those words he handed the shield to Faeldir, whose eyes were wide like those of a child receiving the most precious gift from an unexpected benefactor.

"Thank you," was all he said as the mixture of excitement and grief surged inside him in view of this artefact reaching out to him from dark days long gone by but ever present.

* * *

A pensive silence fell on the king's tent after the brothers left. But it was not to last long and the string of most unusual visitors had not yet reached its end, when later that night a council held by Thranduil, Bard and Gandalf was unexpectedly joined by a certain hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins showing his curly head in the Elvenking's tent. His arrival was as unforeseen as was his proposed scheme extraordinary: An heirloom for an heirloom and war might just be avoided indeed. Everyone's eyes were on the apparently not so plain hobbit when he produced a gem of remarkable beauty, placing the fabled Arkenstone on the table. An iridescent jewel, almost otherworldly in its smooth perfection it gleamed like a moon caught in a net of woven starlight, evoking gazes of marvel from the recipients of this priceless gift.

But Thranduil's amazement did not stop there, for when Bilbo elaborated his motives, the deep feeling of loyalty he harboured for the dwarves became obvious. In the short time of their quest together he had grown so fond of them that he was willing to even incur Thorin's wrath if it meant to avert war and spare their lives. Plans were quickly made to present Thorin with the Arkenstone and the hopes were high that a peaceful solution might still be found after all.

"I would like a word with you alone," Thranduil called after Bilbo who had turned to leave with Bard and Gandalf once the terms of their deal had been set. The talkative hobbit seemed momentarily at a loss for words, assuming that everything had amply been given thought and word. But of course he knew that the Elvenking would not take no for an answer.

"Yes, yes of course." With an awkward bow and a rather irritated glance thrown at Gandalf, Bilbo shuffled to the appointed bench which had been occupied not long ago by Faeldir.

"There are just some quick questions I wish to ask you. Then you shall be on your way back to the dwarves if you should wish so. Although I would recommend that you stay with us, seeing as you seem to be of the reasonable kind."

"Your offer is very kind, but I will have to decline as my place is with my friends." Bilbo was clearly wishing for this to be over already, although if he was completely honest, there was not really anything joyful expecting him back there with the dwarves.

"And so it shall be." The Elvenking acknowledged Bilbo's wish with a slight tilt of his head.

Thranduil furrowed his brows as he took a moment to assess this extraordinary halfling, an array of burning questions flashing through his mind. There was clearly more about this hobbit than his unassuming appearance let on. Thranduil's eyes travelled across the small shape of this plump middle-aged man seated before him. His waistcoat surely must have seen better days, sporting not only obvious holes and frayed seams, but also several singes from his encounter with the dragon. Beneath the Elvenking's unblinking stare Bilbo shifted in his seat, eventually lowering his gaze to the floor as if he had developed a sudden interest in the floral garlands on the carpet in front of him.

"So, do tell me Master Baggins, did you enjoy your stay at my palace?"

Thranduil opened the conversation in a casual tone as he reclined lazily in his chair and looked expectantly at Bilbo. A rather hesitant nod accompanied by a slightly constrained "yes" were Bilbo's only response, not quite sure where the king might be heading with this seemingly informal tone.

"Why then is it that no one at my palace seems to have taken notice of you? You must be quite a master of disguise to have evaded my people for several weeks." Thranduil raised one eyebrow, clearly mystified about the hobbit's abilities.

"This is something I would rather not disclose, if you do not mind, but I assure you that rather a great amount of luck was involved in it."

Upon seeing the deepening crease on the Elvenking's forehead he searched for a way to deviate the conversation towards a hopefully more innocuous topic. "But you know, there _was_ someone who saw me, or better we bumped into each other, to be exact. I believe she told me that she was a traveller from afar. She seemed quite lost though if you ask me. But a fine lady nevertheless, and very helpful she was too. I hope she did not get into trouble because of her hospitality."

Bilbo looked up at Thranduil expectantly hoping to hear some word of relief. Instead the king's words remained cryptic as he did not intend to share any of those details with the hobbit.

"The lady in question is my guest and you need not concern yourself with her wellbeing. But I would very much like to hear what you may have to say about those encounters. I am rather intrigued, I have to say." Thranduil beckoned Bilbo to go ahead with his recollections.

Bilbo cleared his throat, the inquisitiveness of the Elvenking putting him on the spot in a rather uncomfortable way. But he did not want to appear impolite, so he reached for a somewhat evasive answer.

"I am not sure if I can be of much help as I assume that there is little of interest that I can contribute." He shrugged apologetically. "We only have met a handful of times, although I do have to admit that our conversations were quite lively and I remember those moments with fondness." A warm smile lightened up the round face of Bilbo as he continued. "She appeared to be quite interested in our quest and the fact that the dwarves had lost their home seemed to move her in a most special way."

Bilbo's heartfelt words reminded Thranduil just how dearly he missed her sweet smile, but he needed to keep his mind focused, so he moved on to the next question in line:

"Is it true that you had asked her to join you and the dwarves on your little adventure?" The Elvenking tilted his head sideways, his eyes never leaving the hobbit who shifted nervously in his seat in front of him.

"Yes, my lord, that is quite correct. But as I am sure you know she did not come with us. It was a matter of loyalty. She felt that she was bound to a promise she had made." Bilbo looked up to the Elvenking whose gaze remained as impenetrable as ever. "A promise to you."

"By the way," Bilbo added casually, looking around in Thranduil's tent with curiosity, "where is she? I had hoped to find her here. Did she not come with you?"

A sheet of frost descended on Thranduil's face, this hobbit was beginning to be a tad too nosey for his taste. Maybe it had not been such a good idea to have brought him into this conversation after all.

"No, she did not. She stayed behind in my palace. It was a matter of safety," Thranduil answered rather brusquely, his mood darkening by the minute.

Bilbo frowned with an open mouthed stare, slightly inappropriate in the presence of an Elvenking. "But why would she do that? She seemed quite fond of the idea of exploring the world beyond the borders of Mirkwood."

"I think you are mistaking this for a simple pleasure trip, which it is not. This is a dangerous place and I do not usually bring along my guests to battle."

Thranduil's face hardened as Bilbo kept pouring out more unexpected revelations.

"Yes, yes of course you are quite right, but still I should have thought that she was very much interested in meeting with Gandalf." Bilbo shook his head in scepticism, an equally sceptical frown dawning on the king's side.

"Gandalf? Are you sure of that? Did she say why she wished to meet with the wizard?" A sudden concoction of uneasiness and preoccupation rose within Thranduil as he eyed the hobbit, who had taken to ostentatiously flatten his waistcoat, which apparently refused to fall in place in a mannerly way.

"Ah, well, I thought that was quite obvious, given her more than unusual situation." He shifted around beneath Thranduil's inquisitive gaze, beginning to feel that his talkativeness might get him into unexpected trouble. "I am most definitely sure, I mean, after all she appeared to be quite at a loss concerning her whereabouts and her life in general. And not even being able to remember her name, that is a quite curious thing. So when I mentioned that a wizard was part of our company it seemed to have caught her interest. I imagine that she was hoping to be able to get some answers she might have been looking for. You know how Gandalf is, always knowledgeable and a wise answer at the ready." Bilbo wiggled his nose as he undertook yet another futile attempt of bestowing on his unruly attire a more dignified look.

Oh yes, how I know the wizard and his wise but cryptic ways, Thranduil thought to himself, his icy composure not revealing the worry Bilbo's words had planted inside his heart. It was not so much the fact that she was apparently hungry for answers, in a way he even sympathised with her as he felt the same desire for knowledge, wishing to unveil the remaining dark areas of mystery that still surrounded her. No, it was something else. It was yet again the fact that she had not told him anything about these plans of her, had kept all that to herself. He could not really accuse her of having lied to him, only of withholding another piece of information from him. His mind was spinning as he was trying to determine what could have been her intention?

Was she afraid to tell him? If that was the case he only had himself to blame.

But what if she had been planning her escape, keeping him in the dark concerning her true motives? Was she just waiting for him to leave so she could run away from the palace undisturbed? What if she was already on the way, looking for the wizard?

Thranduil pressed his fingers against his aching temples as those thoughts flashed through his head, threatening to tear apart his rather worn out layers of countenance. He needed to be alone and digest those unsettling revelations. Forcing himself to remain calm he thought on possible ways to usher out the hobbit.

Luckily that would not be necessary as Bilbo himself wished now nothing more than to absent himself from this increasingly stifling atmosphere. In an attempt to leaven the mood he searched for some innocuous words to initiate his leave-taking.

"It has indeed been a very long day and I am afraid I might need some sleep before Thorin finds out that I have been trying to save his life in a way he must clearly disapprove of."

A barely stifled yawn underlined Bilbo's words as he stretched his arms and flexed his fingers.

"Yes, of course, you may go now." Thranduil sent Bilbo on his way rather unceremoniously and the hobbit bowed himself out with manifold words of farewell.

* * *

The curtains had hardly closed behind the hobbit when Thranduil's head sank backwards onto the chair, eyes closing and a deep sigh escaping his lips as the meticulously webbed cloak of rigorous dignity suddenly fell from his shoulders like an uncomfortable piece of clothing. And for a moment he allowed his mind to be engulfed by the soft murmuring of the night wind as it rustled through the heavy drapes, a welcome albeit meagre consolation in this dreary loneliness of his. A short instant of leaving all the heaviness of his eternal existence behind as the cool breeze would carry him through the starlit dome above to — yes, but where to?

Pinching the bridge of his nose he forced himself to come back and when he reopened his eyes and saw only the confines of the vaulted roof above him, he scolded himself for his idle reveries. He leaned forward, his head resting heavily in his hands while he sought to lay out a strategy concerning this new development. He needed to have another word with Mithrandir alone, better sooner than later. Find out what the wizard knew, ease his mind, so he could focus again on why he had come here in the first place.

This whole quest of his was converting into an ordeal, but maybe now that this extraordinary hobbit had provided them with the means to negotiate, there might still be the possibility to resolve this entire issue without spilling any blood.

What he hoped for was a swift and painless exchange, an heirloom for an heirloom as Bilbo had so eloquently put it, and then he would be on his way back to the Woodland Realm.

Back with the necklace in hand to where his heart pulled him if only he allowed it.

To be continued …

* * *

 _Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter with a bit more insight into Thranduil's troubled past. And it seems that Bilbo might have unwillingly revealed something to give the poor Elvenking yet more worries..._

 _Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated! And, by the way, if you haven't read the prologue I have added, go and check it out :)!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 16^^!_


	17. The Bitterness of Winter

_A BIG thank you to my ever loyal reader thrndlwood for leaving a review on the preceding chapter. I really appreciate that you take the time to review every single chapter!_

* * *

 _Chapter 16 - The Bitterness of Winter_

The tree had blessed Anna with a vision from her past, painted images in her mind and soul of what was once her life. Faces and embraces, smiles and hugs, dainty petals and autumn winds all swirled in her head like a vibrant bouquet of memories. But it were still only fleeting moments, broken flashbacks and as the minutes passed the images became static silhouettes deprived of their colour and sinking back behind the veil of oblivion and there was nothing that she could do to hold on to them.

It had given her a dream that filled her heart with joy and an equal amount of confusion. Why was the forest suddenly granting her insight into a life that had been taken from her, shut away from her eyes and her heart? Why now? She was lost in the midst of this forest and no step closer to finding Thranduil and then her past seemed to finally reach out for her, timidly still, but even the faintest knock had made her heart flutter in the most unusual way.

But could she trust what she saw?

Her mind told her not to be fooled, but her heart still wavered, clinging even to the slightest shred of her past life now that everything seemed to fall apart.

But what if it was _just_ a dream, a cruel illusion to torture her already troubled soul? How could she even be sure that what she had seen were images of her life? What if this was just another one of those deceptive tricks the forest played on her? Leading her astray not only in her search of Thranduil but also sending her on a twisted pathway towards an alleged life she may have had in a hazy past. How could she tell apart lies from the truth? Neither did she possess the foresight of the elves nor the magical abilities of a wizard. The thought of Gandalf flashed through her head, he might be indeed the only one that could give her the answers she so desperately longed for. Of course he was as much out of reach as Thranduil, so no help would come from him.

It all boiled down to one fact: she was on her own, no one could come to her aid, nor would be able to bring light into the darkness that were her past and her future, the only certain thing being her present: she was lost and that was not good, she needed to get un-lost as soon as possible. The longer she lingered in these woods, the further she was from finding out who she was and who she wanted to be. Remaining under the tree and dwelling on her thoughts would not get her closer to any of her goals. If she did not want to die a lonesome death in the fangs of Mirkwood she needed to move on.

But that was easier said than done.

Her body was stiff, unwilling to move and she began her fourth day with a feeling of having been in the wild for weeks rather than days without proper shelter or food and the cold was affecting her more than what she had anticipated. Without being able to make a fire she had not had a chance to dry her clothes, so they were uncomfortably damp, sticking to her skin in heavy layers. The chill had slowly but steadily crept under her skin and into her bones, the blood crawling through her veins like a frozen river that spread into tiny icy brooks throughout her entire body, numbing her fingers and toes despite their protective layers of gloves and boots. Not even the elven cloak was able to shield her sufficiently from the freezing cold. Her body was not as resilient as the ones of the elves and she would soon reach the limit of what she could withstand. Her reflexes were beginning to slow down and her senses weakening, everything around her appearing slightly blurred and as if a thin veil had been cast around her.

The bitterness of winter did not show her any mercy.

Her body trembled in a desperate effort to keep her temperature from dropping even further down to life-threatening regions where her bodily functions would eventually shut down. The humidity in the air had also stuck to her hair, creating a wayward mess of matted strands, leaves and the occasional piece of broken twig sticking out under her hood. Whatever elvish braids she had, were long gone, her face covered in scratches, some of them still shedding blood, some dried up and she surely must have been a picture of misery. Probably Thranduil would not even recognise her if he found her, now that she was resembling more a wild beast than a human being, she thought to herself bitterly.

But nothing could be done now about her looks, her survival was more important than being pretty. Every muscle, tense and sore, had to be persuaded to stretch in order to avoid her body to succumb to winter's ruthless grip. A heaviness lay on her limbs like lead that made them stubbornly refuse to obey the orders her brain sent in a desperate attempt to stay awake and alert. How much easier it would be to give in to the seductive murmurs of surrender that filled her ears with alluring promises of rest, sweet and endless and free from pain and suffering. If she just stayed under the tree and closed her eyes again she would eventually drift off into a deep slumber, dreamless, dark and warm, carrying her to a place where she would not feel any physical pain, only blissful oblivion and relief awaiting her. But a high price was to be paid at the door of eternal sleep, forsaking all possibilities of happiness and leaving behind both her past and her future in exchange for an endless void that would be her everlasting present. Grief would never find her on the shores of the absolute nothingness, but neither would love.

Pushing the luring invitation of death and its outstretched hand aside she finally opened her eyes with the little volition she still had left inside her, the dim patches of daylight momentarily banning the darkness that had threatened to seize her susceptible heart.

She looked up into the dome of tangled branches above her, greyish and dreary as they were and her eyes followed her breath as it froze in front of her face, tiny icy crystals swirling around her like a cloud of glazed cotton, dancing in the haze before they lost themselves in the twisted twigs above her.

Anna's thoughts trailed back to the day she had left the palace and the mysterious visitor, whose arrival had allowed her to sneak out unnoticed. More than once she had nurtured the idea that he had indeed been a messenger from Thranduil and his army bringing tidings from either victory or defeat. It gnawed at her heart that she may have missed the possibility to keep her promise by just a fleeting moment. But of course it was useless to play the what-if game, because there was no way that she could turn back the hands of time, she had made her choice and had to suffer the consequences of her actions.

Still, she could not stop her train of thoughts, even if she had wanted to. What if Thranduil had indeed been victorious and was already on his way back only to find her gone from the palace? Surely he would be upset since she had broken her promise. And he had every right to be angry with her. Her behaviour was just another proof of her human weakness, she thought to herself glumly. Thranduil had been right after all about her, foresight and prudence being both equally far from her mind. He might just decide to give up on her and leave her to fend for herself in the wild. After all it would serve her right, defiant and stubborn as she was. She had repeatedly ignored his orders and wishes, so why would he go after her if she was not to be trusted?

As if those thoughts were not daunting enough an even darker shadow was cast on her heart when she contemplated the only other possible outcome of Thranduil's quest. What if the messenger had borne ill news and Thranduil had been killed in battle?

No one was going to look for her either way.

However she looked at it, she had manoeuvred herself once again into a hopeless situation. She seemed to be getting rather good at it, disappointing the king being apparently one of her main qualities. How naive of her to think that she would be able to simply cross the forest and walk straight into Thranduil's arms! She had thoroughly underestimated the power of this magical place and was paying dearly for her rash actions.

So the vision she had could only mean one thing: her past was her only future and she had to find her way back. It broke her heart to leave Thranduil behind, but after all that she had done it seemed unlikely to Anna that he would still care for her.

She could not bear the thought of being openly rejected by him, of seeing the disappointment in his eyes, so her only choice was to go away, to disappear from his life. He would eventually forget her, after all she was only a human, a mortal woman, who would never be able to make a lasting impression on someone that had already lived thousands of years and had still an uncounted amount of lifespan ahead of him. His heart most likely still belonged to his wife and if he ever would give it to someone else it would surely be one of his kin.

The wintry chill had crept into her heart, small patches of frost latching on to it and slowly covering everything in thin layers of ice until there was no more warmth left. Draining it of all confidence and trust, leaving her bare out in the cold that was as merciless as it was forbidding.

She pulled the cloak tighter around her in an effort to conserve the little bit of warmth she had left and willed herself to sit up, her stiff fingers fumbling at the drawstring of her backpack in search of another bite of _lembas_. The water had frozen inside the waterskin and only after a fair amount of squeezing she was able to extract some crushed pieces of ice that did not really help in warming her body, but after all she needed to avoid dehydration. She scrambled to her feet in a laborious effort, her nightly sentinel as withered and gnarled as yesterday and nothing revealed now the secret powers that slumbered beneath its ancient appearance. She put her hand on the rough and surprisingly warm bark as if the answers she searched for would flow from it into her, but it stood still and silent and said nothing.

"Why will you not speak to me now? Why do you throw me into such confusion?" she demanded in an accusatory tone, her fingers clutching at some frozen patches of moss. "I need answers, not more riddles."

But of course it did neither speak nor sing to her, it was just as mute as all its companions in the forest, only softly swaying its branches in the chill morning air in a mocking tone. She clenched her fists in frustration, throwing them upwards in a menacing gesture where she imagined its treetop to be, hidden from her view.

"If you are just mocking or teasing me, then better don't show me anything at all. It only hurts more to lose everything all over again."

A distinct rustling went through the highest branches as if there was a wind picking up speed in the invisible sky above.

"What is this supposed to mean? In case you have forgotten, I am not an elf, I do not speak your language."

Branches swayed vigorously above her, the wind raising its voice to a determined gust and a tremor went through the oak from top to bottom shaking the ground beneath her that made her gasp out in surprise and take back a step.

"I — I'm sorry. I did not mean to offend you —," she stuttered, raising her open hands up as a sign of goodwill.

A moment of silence followed, long enough to make her realise that she indeed had just spoken to a tree. She must be going crazy. Being all alone in the forest was going to make her lose her last bits of sanity.

The tree did not move again and the wind had settled into a heavy silence that descended on the forest as she stood in front of the majestic oak, seriously questioning her sanity. How long she had been standing there staring at the tree she did not know. But a peaceful feeling spread inside her, warming her like a tiny hearth, and when she emerged from her thoughts as if from a trance, her mind was suddenly clear and for a brief moment free of all doubts.

And she thought she understood: she had set out to find Thranduil and that still must remain her goal no matter what. Her past had waited for so many months, it could wait just a little more. After all, what was already gone would not go away again.

But which way to turn to?

* * *

As if her question had been answered she saw a faint white light gleaming in between the dense thicket not far away from her. In the absence of a better plan she decided to follow the light, maybe it would lead her towards the king of her heart. It seemed quite unlikely to her that she could get even more lost than what she already was. So it was worth a try.

She tightened her scabbard, straightened her cloak and shouldered her backpack, making her way towards the source of this mysterious light. On and on it led her, staying always ahead of her, now a tiny glimmer flickering in between the branches, and then dancing away dimly in the distance, but she made sure never to lose sight of it. Her eyes fixed on the glowing compass she strode on, bushes and the thick undergrowth granting her an easier passage than during her preceding struggles. Still the cold was unforgiving and she had to pull her cloak even tighter around her, the icy chill creeping steadily up from her feet as it began even to seep through the boots. The ancient grey trees lined her path like sentinels and not far ahead from her between the tall pillars in a small clearing a shape appeared, glowing and radiating and filling the dim twilight of its surroundings with the soft light of hope.

For a moment she hesitated, a tiny shard of doubt had remained in her heart, prudence raising its voice in the back of her head. Maybe she was walking into a trap? Her heartbeat racing wild, she placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, a sudden rush of confidence staying the shadow that had threatened to descend on her heart once more. She held her breath as she slowly made her way forward, the glowing shape still blurred as it lingered partially hidden from her view in between the trees, the white light illuminating the ancient grey barks around it, bestowing on them a peaceful serenity that seemed quite unlike this gloomy forest.

Her eyes were blinded by the intensity of the light as she carefully stepped closer, having been used to the relative darkness in the forest and she had to shield them with her hands. And then with a pounding heartbeat she saw it and she knew.

She was not alone after all.

A beautiful white stag was pawing the ground before her as she neared it timidly, majestic antlers like snow-white branches crowning its proud head and the ethereal light surrounding it like starlight, beautiful and pure. A smile dawned on her face as she approached this graceful and elegant creature that seemed to have descended from the heavens, her hand letting go of her sword's hilt and then the deer reared its head towards her, blue orbs quietly taking in her appearance, the familiar hint of melancholy permeating its gaze of wisdom. She was so close that she only needed to extend her hand to touch it, but she was hesitant, maybe she would scare it away, after all she looked rather haggard and maybe it would refuse to be touched by a human. So she only stood glued to the spot, a look of awe on her face as she allowed herself to drown in the ocean of its eyes. So beautiful, so perfect, an endless sea of blue, and a lonely soul hiding on an island of sadness in waters that were cold and still like the morning frost.

And then the stag closed the gap in between both of them, laying its head on her shoulder with a tenderness that seemed rather remarkable for an animal of such impressive size. But of course she knew that this was not just a normal animal, she had concluded as much already after her first encounter with the stag in the Queen's refuge.

It was Thranduil's way of looking after her while he was away, his _fae_ residing within the _rhaw_ of this celestial guardian of the forest. A spirit animal it was called. She had read about it during her visits to the library, but until not so long ago never thought that she would ever set eyes on one of those exquisite creatures, let alone feel it beneath her fingers.

And then there was no more holding back and she flung her arms around its neck and buried her face in the unbelievable softness of its fur, all her fears and doubts streaming down her cheeks in salty tears, the stag patiently allowing her to let go of all the emotions she had been holding in for so long. She wept as the feeling of emptiness that Thranduil had left behind in her heart filled her with grief and sorrow. She wanted to say that she missed him, that she was sorry for running away, that she only wanted to be with him again. Nothing else would ever fill the gaping hole that was in her heart. But no words left her mouth, her throat was all choked up and all she could do was cry as she pressed her cheek against the firmness of the animal's head, her tears glowing iridescently like tiny pearls scattered across the pristine whiteness that was the stag's fur.

Bathed in white light they stood in a long moment of silence, Anna's arms wrapped tightly around the animal's neck, its steady heartbeat reaching out for hers and taking it along in a harmonious rhythm until both their hearts were beating in unison and a tiny spark kindled a small but bright flame inside her, illuminating her human soul with a glimpse of eternity, beautiful and frightening in its immeasurable endlessness. A light that she carried within and that would guide her when everything else went dark. It was a moment lost in time, disconnected from the world, two souls connected as one in the vastness of the universe.

When the stag looked at her again there was a single tear in the corner of its eye and as it lowered its head the tear fell onto her sword, a faint white gleam flashing through the blade in the blink of an eye and before she could take a second look it was gone and the metal was back to its not so pristine, slightly dull silvery surface.

The stag bowed its head before her and she caressed it tenderly in between the antlers, like Thranduil had done to his elk on her first day in the forest. And then she placed a kiss on its forehead and murmured: "I am glad you found me." she stroked the soft fur, seeing that it seemed to enjoy her caresses, as it rubbed its head against her hands. "But I need you to bring help. Please!" It reared its ears, tiny white wisps flaring from its nostrils as it nodded and then it slowly turned away, making its way through the majestic pillars, bathing them in white light as it passed them, the light growing ever fainter as it cantered on into the dark thickets until it finally could not be seen anymore, leaving her behind in the dim twilight once again.

She stood there looking at the spot where it had disappeared, unable to tear her eyes off the now empty clearing, all the magic suddenly gone. Still she passed the remainder of the day with a warmth in her heart that made all the cold and pain more bearable.

But her time of hardship was not over just yet. In fact the real ordeal was still ahead of her. But of that she knew nothing when she searched for a suitable shelter to spend the night. She fell asleep in high spirits after today's wonderful encounter, hoping for a speedy reunion with Thranduil as she drifted off into a peaceful and dreamless slumber.

* * *

The next morning she awoke to another disturbing challenge when she opened her eyes and she saw only misty white surrounding her. A dense fog lay on the forest like thick layers of greyish white blankets suspended in between the trees, soaking them in impenetrable veils, their branches resembling skeletal hands reaching out for her from above, poking through the mist in unexpected places and awkward angles. With aching joints and sore muscles she reached for her already dwindling store of _lembas_ and the still frozen water and then scrambled to her feet, muttering curses under her breath. It dampened her spirits that this type of weather was sabotaging once more her efforts of orienting herself, making it impossible to make out any pathway at all.

But there was nothing for it, she could not remain where she was, so she staggered along as best as she could, her eyes wide open and still unable to see, her hands outstretched in front of her to avoid possible collisions with trees or unseen obstacles hidden behind the drape that enshrouded the woods. Blindness took her, inside and out, her heart's pathway was as hazy as were the woods surrounding her. After what seemed like hours of fruitless wandering her inner light grew ever dimmer, almost imperceptibly at first as despair and doubts gradually choked it until it got to a point where the flame flickered meagrely one last time and then went out. Or at least she thought so, the darkness and the cold threatening to gain the upper hand once more.

As she was lost in thoughts she had not noticed that in between the layers of fog something else had begun to emerge in the thickets around her. Dense and nasty it spanned in between the trees, tricky cobwebs they were, prepared to catch the unaware traveller, their ever hungry architects lingering in the dark, with piercing eyes, black and keen and always alert staring through the shadows. The rank smell of decay, mellifluous in its deceptive sweetness, emanated from beneath the rotten layers of leaves and deadwood and countless fungi, littered with disintegrated corpses of unidentifiable creatures, carelessly dropped and forgotten by their disgusting murderers. She did not need her eyes to tell her that she had somehow wandered into the portion of Mirkwood that she most had wanted to avoid, the tales of evil spiders, those monstrous Spawns of Ungoliant, painting all too vivid images in her head. The daylight had started to fade away yet once again, the dense fog now appearing like thick clouds of dark grey and an impression of impending doom descending around her.

She closed her fingers around the hilt of her sword, the black ocean of fear flooding her stomach, threatening to drown the crumbling remnants of her courage in its greedy abysm. The smooth metal was cool against her skin, but as she gripped it tighter heat began to emanate from within, the warmth radiating around it, prickling beneath her fingers and crawling under her skin. She gasped in surprise and released the hilt, afraid that it would burn her fingers, but immediately scolded herself for her foolishness. This was an elven sword, how could it be cursed with evil magic? And then it dawned on her that the stag's tear must have probably cast a protective spell on it.

But another disturbing thought lodged itself in her mind: what if the sword sensed danger and went into something like an alert mode? This could only mean one thing: she was seriously in trouble. She resumed her grip, the warmth immediately rushing through her hands into her arm, her fingers moulding around the heated metal that began to buckle against the restraint of its scabbard, begging to be released. With a racing heartbeat she held on to it, trying to keep it sheathed, while she crept along silently, carefully avoiding the treacherous cobwebs, their sticky fangs looming greedily above her head. The silence was unbearable, it was the calm before the storm, she knew it in her heart that the hunters had surely spotted their prey and were now patiently waiting for it to get tangled in their gluttonous nets.

It did not take long and then she heard them, first muted from high above and then echoing in between the trees: clicking noises in various pitches, screeching cries like evil voices debating the most gruesome way of killing her. The accompanying squelching made her hair stand on end and her skin prickle with revulsion.

This was it, the horror she so desperately had tried to avoid had found her at last. It was time, time to face her fears. Only she did not feel heroic at all, more like a cornered rabbit with a hammering heartbeat hoping against hope to be able to escape from an untimely death. If only Thranduil were here to protect her, things might have looked less gloomy for her, but he was far away from her fighting his own war. His swords would not be able to fend for her now.

Flight or fight were her two choices, but deep down she knew that it was too late to run away and she had only one option: go forward and defend herself as best as she could. Forgotten were her past and her future, her whole existence melted into a single moment here and now that consisted only of Anna and her still invisible foes, her mind blocking out everything else that would distract her from her goal of staying alive.

With a deep breath she slowly drew her sword that eagerly leapt into her hand, ready to prove its value and sensing that a time of valour had come again. The sword was not a two hander, but she had much better leverage gripping it with both hands. Also there was nothing else for her to hold on to, no shield to protect her, so she might as well cling to this piece of metal as tight as she could like her life literally depended on it, which was not far from the actual truth.

Her eyes still blinded by the ever darkening fog, she allowed the sword to guide her, the slightest vibration of the slender blade reverberating throughout the entire piece of gleaming silver, flowing into her hands and filling her body with anxious anticipation. The tension clutched her heart in an iron vice as it pounded in her chest, her blood rushing like a torrent through her veins. She gripped the smooth and polished metal of the delicate hilt with fierce determination until her knuckles turned white, all sinews in her body in taut expectation and a mixture of recklessness and courage emerging from some hitherto undiscovered corners of her heart.

And then the first attack came out of nowhere and hit her unprepared nevertheless, a swift blow from behind slashing through her cloak with an edge as sharp and pointy as a knife. She staggered forward, struggling to keep her balance, the hilt of her sword pulling her upwards as if it were guided by invisible strings. If it weren't for the protective magic of the elven cloak, this first blow would have surely struck her down already. She quickly concluded that moving forward would not do the trick, she had to circle around slowly, prepared to strike any moment and in any direction.

Her motions were terribly uncoordinated at first and it was almost a miracle that she did not drop her sword in her confused stabbing and more than once her sword gut stuck in the hairy bellies of her enemies and she had to get dangerously close to those nasty pincers in order to retrieve it again, keeping her attackers at bay with a wooden stick she had grasped in despair. But the more she relaxed and gave herself to its lead the more her aim improved and it seemed practically glued to her hands.

Her breathing fell in sync with the swirling motions of her blade as it cut through the onslaught of her enemies crawling frantically around her on their eight crooked legs. Soon the forest floor was littered with cut off limbs, heavy drops of gooey blood painting the dead leaves black.

Anger drove them on as they were frustrated by her constant evasion of their sticky webs and rattling pincers. Nastier and quicker in succession came their attacks and more and more of their fat and filthy bodies appeared from in between the trees. Some swung themselves from branch to branch on endless threads hoping to catch her unaware, but her eyes where now everywhere and so was her sword, slashing and stabbing in constant rhythm in a fearless dance of merciless slaughtering.

High pitch shrieks cut through the air, chasing a wave of repugnance down her spine. Again and again she thrusted her blade into the black mass around her. Parrying and slashing, she needed to keep her mind focused. Any mistake could cost Anna her life.

 _Turn around. Faster! Don't let go of the sword. Raise it up again. Higher! There, you got another one!_

A lifeless body falling backwards and curling up its legs spurred her on to an even fiercer onslaught.

 _Left. Right_.

She pushed them back one step.

 _Don't trip. Hold your ground._

But they advanced two steps.

 _Keep your guard up!_

Her face was covered in sweat and blood, blurring her vision, her hair a mess as it stuck out in odd angles.

 _Watch out!_

There, another blow from an unexpected angle hit her hard. A jolt of pain burned like acid through her left shoulder where a claw had slashed through all the layers of her clothing and she could feel the blood soaking the fabric, its warm flow trickling down her left side.

 _That was a close call._

Anna bent down in pain and the attack left her disoriented just long enough for the spiders to gain the upper hand.

After all, she was only one against many foes and eventually her motions became sluggish and fatigue began slowing her down. Her arms were not able keep up with the apparent endless energy of her sword and even despite its lightness the metal felt now heavy, dragging her arms down and rendering her attacks less efficient. All she could do was block and try to parry the spider's incessant stinging so they would not get to her all at once. But a bad feeling pooled inside her stomach as she began to realise that only a miracle would save her now. The wall of enemies closed in as they formed a tighter ring around her, most of them crawling on the floor ever more daring and clinging to the lower branches, their nasty attacks now carried out with renewed agility as they smelled victory in the air and soon saw themselves being rewarded with a small but fresh piece of meat to feast upon. Their hairy legs and clicking pincers relentlessly worked their way around her, bulbous eyes staring at her greedily and a rotten stench surrounding her, raising an urge of vomit inside her as she staggered on, trying to avoid tripping over the gnarled roots that spanned across the forest floor. Their screeching intensified with their equally growing excitement and she could already feel their foul breath close to her, too close. More sticky threads were cast around her in relentless determination, forming speedily into thick webs that stuck to her clothes and threatened to trap her sword as well.

And then everything was but a hazy blur, she slashed around wildly in a last attempt to free herself, her eyes half-closed in an effort of channeling all her remaining energy into her hands. Her hands and her sword were the only two things still keeping her alive. Hands that were slacking, bruised and scratched as they were, but still holding on tightly to her sword's hilt, as if letting go meant embracing the finality of death. She almost stumbled as one of her legs had gotten stuck in the ever growing net around her, dozens of spiders in a revolting black and hairy wave nimbly working their way around her most susceptible body parts.

 _Cut, cut the net! Now, or you will be lost!_ _Rolled up into a cocoon of juicy dinner._

Anna slashed desperately at the threads that held her leg captive only to find her other one tangled in the meantime by this untiring army of the abhorrent servants of evil.

 _Faster now, cut the other side loose! Move your sword, swing it high and slash through once more!_

But her body was beginning to fail her, weakened by her wounds, her hands refusing to raise the weight of the sword any more, the blade now only dragging heavily along the floor, not shiny and silvery, but stained dark with the blood of her enemies and pieces of hair and skin blemishing its once so pristine and elegant appearance. In the midst of all the turmoil of misshaped bellies and greedily outstretched legs her will to fight trickled steadily from her veins, leaving her body weak and empty, and she knew that this was it.

Whatever miracle she was secretly hoping for would not come.

A gust of wind rose beyond the circle of feasting spiders around her while they worked ever faster on her sticky and lethal prison, as if a fresh wave would be making its way towards her. But she was so worn out from her fight that had turned out fruitless in the end that she barely noticed the slight change in ambience, determined and clear voices mixing with the ever busy scuttling of tireless legs around her. All she saw were gluttonous mouths opening wide, their gaping holes stunning her with their revolting stench and revealing dark and voracious gorges that would be the last thing she would lay her eyes on.

But she would not die with the ugly image of these evil creatures etched in her mind. She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the inevitable. The sword slid from her hands landing on the floor with a soft thud. It had served her well, but now she would not be needing it any more. As she felt the threads tightening around her, her body heavy and limp as she gave up all resistance, she conjured up the sweetest memories she could think of. She did not have much to choose from. Only broken fractions of her former life remained from her last vision, long forgotten scents of home, fleeting touches and furtive glances, not enough to hold on to. And then the image of Thranduil emerged from within, pushing itself to the fore, the enigma that was the Elvenking in all his ethereal beauty filling her every thought. And the barren land that was her heart suddenly brimmed with light, blinding and bright and she whispered with the last remnant of breath: "Thranduil, I am sorry —."

A blood-curdling shriek echoed through Mirkwood, she staggered backwards clumsily with her bound legs as searing pain rushed like lightning through her veins, her blood boiling in agony, igniting a deadly paralysis of her body. Panic struck her as her body went numb at an alarming rate, but it was too late. Like a wildfire it consumed her, in an evil twist leaving her mind still conscious of all that was happening until the end, malevolently bringing home to her the bitterness of defeat. It spread from her lower back, taking possession of every fibre of her body, an invasion of evilness slithering beneath her skin that had her helplessly drowning, arms and legs hanging limply by her side, and struggling for air as her lungs were rapidly constricted, clouding her mind as it ran out of vital oxygen.

Her inner light flickered in a last gasp of life. And she fell through endless shadows into the black pit of darkness.

And she fell, on and on, until she was caught in a firm embrace.

To be continued …

Sindarin:

 _fae_ \- soul

 _rhaw_ \- body

* * *

 _Author's Note: I hope you have enjoyed this latest chapter and are curious to see what the future holds in store for Anna and Thranduil! Stay tuned for Chapter 17^^!_

 _Reviews, favs and follows are VERY MUCH appreciated :D!_


	18. A King's Command

_Thank you so much to all my readers who have reviewed the preceding chapter: Annabelle Black, Lydwina Marie, thrndlwood , the Catbird Seat, the Enchanted Stream and a guest!_

 _And another BIG thank you to all those, who have followed and/or favourited this story! Your support means A LOT to me, because it shows me that you enjoy my story and want to read more :)._

 _So here is the new chapter: after Anna got attacked by the those nasty spiders we go back to Thranduil's POV a few days prior to the incident (the continuation of 'A Matter of Loyalty'):_

* * *

 _Chapter 17 - A King's Command_

The stars were barely visible on the jet black dome that spanned above Dale, their silver gleam dimmed behind the stubborn veil of clouds that had brought the first snow into the valley. Despite the late hour there was a busy rush of elves and men going about their business, the ruined city alive with unusual bustle. Finishing touches were given to weapons, supplies were distributed and in between it all the elves still found the time and leisure to light up the night with their melodious singing voices. Ethereal and otherworldly they floated above the dissonant harmonies of metal against stone and noisy chatter, like beautiful images of springtime in the forest that was but a long lost memory in this forsaken wasteland.

"Don't walk so fast! Or are you in a hurry to get away from me?" Faeldir teased Amardir as he struggled to keep up with his brother's brisk pace.

The two made their way through the rows of elvish tents that were closely huddled together, as if they were seeking assurance in each others company in this place that was still haunted by the ghosts of its violent past. Amardir only threw him an annoyed look over his shoulder, he was clearly not in the mood for his little brother's light-headed bickering.

"You know very well that we must make haste. It is the king's command and not my wish."

"That is what you say, but I heard it loud and clear when you offered yourself for this mission," Faeldir countered as he clutched the cumbersome shape of their father's shield in front of him like the most prized possession, the grey cloth wrapped haphazardly around it. Amardir was determined not to let himself be dragged into an argument with his brother, after all he needed to focus on the task that lay ahead of him.

"It was my duty and that should suffice. We both have our duties to fulfil, so you will do yours as I will do mine," Amardir said rather gruffly, intent on closing this topic, but alas, he should have seen his brother's stubbornness coming.

"But the king could have at least allowed me to go with you. I do not like the taste of this dreadful place he is sending you." Faeldir kept on nagging as they hurried past crumbled remains of houses abandoned long ago, silent witnesses of the dreadful time when death on its heated wings had razed them like a tempest of fire.

"That is not for you to decide and you know that very well."

Amardir suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to face his brother, who had caught up and now nearly bumped into him. Faeldir stared at him, taken aback by the harsh tone in his brother's voice and tightening his grip around the crumpled package in his arms. His lower lip trembled as he sought to keep his poise, the snowflakes settling like tiny stars on his brown hair.

"I know that he is our king but I also know that my place is with you. Thranduil does not need me here. He has an entire army to fight for him!" Faeldir said with a defiant glare in his eyes.

Amardir couldn't help but smile at his little brother's words. He knew how much his younger brother adored him and how little fondness he had for the idea of him being sent on a dangerous mission.

"Don't mock me," Faeldir protested at the dawning smile on his brother's face, "I am very serious about it."

"And so am I. I am not mocking you," Amardir appeased his brother, "I am merely glad to hear how much you don't want me to leave. But it is about time that you learn how to find your own way. No and don't protest," he raised his hand to silence Faeldir who had already opened his mouth with an answer at the ready, "you yourself showed me today that it is so, when you went to ask the king about our father. That was a quite daring thing to do."

"You think so?" Faeldir blurted out, not quite sure if he should be relieved. "So you are not upset with me?"

"I have considered it, initially." Amardir cocked his head sideways and cast his brother an assessing glance. "But no, I am not. You are not a little elfling any more and I must accept this."

Faeldir beamed at his brother like the rising sun and almost dropped the shield in his excitement.

"I promise that I will make you proud. I will fight for both of us while you are away."

"Don't overexert yourself," Amardir said chuckling at his brothers enthusiasm, earning him an amused grin from his brother.

"I won't, don't worry."

"Good, now that we have cleared that up, let us not tarry any longer, for I must set out quickly."

Amardir turned around resolutely and continued to lead the way towards their destination.

At last they reached one of the better preserved houses with its walls mostly intact and even a roof that provided some meagre shelter from the elements. Bard and his men hat set up improvised stables for their own horses, the few that they had been able to rescue from the fire, as well as the ones that had pulled the carts of the elves and of course Thranduil's elk. Most were now munching away gratefully on what little food they had been given.

A stout middle-aged man with a dark red waistcoat that must have cost quite a good sum stretching dangerously over his protruding belly, his thick brown hair as wiry as his beard, received the brothers with a polite smile on his slightly overtired face.

"I have been expecting you." He bowed curtly, the brothers reciprocating with a slight inclination of their heads.

"You have?" Faeldir asked with a surprised look.

The smile on the man's square face grew bigger as he puffed himself up proudly.

"Your king's word travels fast. And the hour may be late, but I have not been idle. My name is Odmund and I welcome you to these modest stables."

He ushered them to follow him while he gesticulated to another young boy who had entered with a bale of hay in his hands and a questioning look on his face. "Take this to the Elvenking's elk, special attention must be given to his animal." At this the boy turned obediently towards the appointed direction and Odmund returned his attention to Faeldir and Amardir.

"If you would come with me please."

Wasting no more time he led them directly around the side wall of the building towards the back where several horses had been tethered outside, all the while going on about the hardship of having been depraved of his source of income by the sudden appearance of the dragon.

"I am a farrier, you must know, and the best one you can find in all Esgaroth if I may say so." He sighed as he reached for the reigns of a plain grey mare that stood in between two brown ones. "Well, I _was_ the best one, before those confounded dwarves woke the dragon that brought ruin upon us all." He threw an accusatory glance in the direction where he suspected the mountain to be looming in the darkness. "Many fine beasts have perished." He shook his head, a gloomy frown on his face, as he gave the horse a friendly pat.

Amardir nodded gravely, not wanting to appear impolite, but at the same time hoping to speed up things.

"I am very sorry for the losses you had to suffer. But I assure you that our people are here to provide as much help as possible." The questioning look on Amardir's face as he took in the features of the mare prompted a sudden change in Odmund's mood.

"But luckily for you, this one survived." A small smile shone through the brown mess of his beard as he presented the chosen horse to the brothers. Faeldir had shuffled closer, trying to get a better look.

"This is Silvermane," the man's voice dropped low as he spoke the name with reverence. "Do not let yourself be deceived by her plain appearance," he said, forestalling a possible complaint, "she has been selected with great care. Her pace is light, but smooth and swift and she will carry you to your destination safely. And she is most loyal to her rider." Silvermane neighed as if in approval, her silver crest flowing around her slender neck and her dark brown eyes lingering curiously on the elves. Amardir was visibly pleased as he made his way around the horse, diligently saddled and patiently waiting for its rider.

"Do not worry good man. I do know the value of a loyal horse and do not judge it by its appearance."

"Good, good. I see that I do not need to tell you more." Odmund nodded and handed the reins to Faeldir. "I will leave you two then to it, as I have more business to attend to."

"Yes, very well. Thank you," Amardir said as he opened the saddlebags and to his satisfaction found that ample provisions had been packed inside them.

The farrier bade Silvermane goodbye with a tender stroke on her forehead and before he turned to leave he pointed a finger at Amardir.

"I only have one request: bring her back safe, will you?"

"I will, I promise." Amardir had rounded the horse and was with one foot already in the stirrups.

With a weary smile Odmund straightened his waistcoat and headed back inside, still somewhat reluctant at leaving Silvermane behind.

"Be sure to take care of yourself," said Faeldir as his brother finally mounted the horse. The wry smile on his face barely could conceal the worry that held him captive, now that the moment of truth was indeed upon them. Being separated from his brother was not something he appreciated and even less now that one was being sent on an obviously dangerous mission while the other had to stay behind, the equally dangerous threat of war looming overhead.

"Yes, of course I will. The same goes for you my brother."

Amardir shifted in the saddle, making sure he had his sword stowed away in reach should the need for a quick defence arise, as well as his bow safely slung around his back. Seeing the lingering preoccupation in Faeldir's eyes he addressed him in the most nonchalant voice he could muster:

"Do not worry, I will be just fine. The times of dragons in Gundabad are long gone by and you know that I can handle a bunch of nasty orcs. Besides, you _are_ with me wherever I go, but you know that little brother, don't you?"

Amardir ruffled the horse's mane, the happy whinnying casting a fleeting smile on Amardir's face.

"Yes, I know." Faeldir nodded obediently. He handed his brother the reins and gave the horse an encouraging pat. "You better get going before you make me all teary-eyed with your sentimental babble."

Amardir raised one eyebrow in playful indignation.

"Good bye then!" He took the reins from his brother and with one last glance turned away.

"Until we meet again," Faeldir called after him.

Amardir spurred his horse and in the blink of an eye the darkness had swallowed both horse and rider.

* * *

Sleep would not come easily to Thranduil that night as he spent the hours shifting around worries in his head, all attempts to put his mind at rest crowned with little to no success. As he lay awake in his bed he could not help but let his thoughts drift back to the conversation with the hobbit. Something was odd about this Master Baggins, something elusive, something he could not put his finger on quite yet. He was now sure that he had felt his presence in the palace at least once. Back then it had been only a mere hunch, a singular drift of cold air casting a fleeting shadow on his heart. Bilbo Baggins was clearly not an evil person, but no one, not even hobbits, small as they were, possessed the power to turn invisible at will, unless they were to use magic. And the fact that he had so blatantly refused to give him an explanation only reinforced Thranduil's suspicion that a stealthy power beyond the hobbit's own comprehension had once again begun to work its dark malice in Middle-earth. Thranduil had not been able to explain to himself the sudden chill that had crept under his skin and into his bones, but now he began to understand the whole extent as more pieces of the puzzle appeared. Mithrandir and his warning, a hobbit with astonishing abilities and his own premonitions: it all fell suddenly into place.

He hoped that whatever this meant it would not be a bad omen for his quest and the dwarves might indeed be his only foes he would have to worry about. But the ring of concerns only tightened around his heart with relentless force. After all he had lived long enough to recognise the darkness when faced with it, however it might disguise itself. And contrary to a young elf like Faeldir he as king could not allow himself to show fear, because it would only be construed as weakness, thus playing into the hands of his enemies. The Mountain lay under siege, but he did not feel much different himself, all his worries piling up like an impenetrable wall of stone and casting a dark shadow of hopelessness on his heart.

The only rays of hope breaking through the wall of gloom were the gems he so much desired, those precious jewels that lay deeply hidden in the vast underground halls of Erebor. Their iridescent gleam like pure starlight caught in their vexing facets emanated an otherworldly glow of eternal beauty. A beauty he desired above everything else on Arda, cold and pure like immaculate crystals of ice. The prospect of being able to feel their smooth perfection beneath his fingers and take delight in their ethereal gleam filled his heart with a soothing warmth he so dearly longed for. A fierce desire rose within him, a desire that was both driven by the hunger for retribution as well as the deeply rooted feeling of devotion he still felt for his departed wife.

If Thorin wanted his Arkenstone back, he would have to give up Thranduil's necklace in turn, or else he would not hesitate in laying a permanent siege on those walls behind which the dwarf hid like a thief in the darkness. He was patient, he could wait. At some point the dwarves would run out of food inside the Mountain and they would come crawling forth like beggars, asking for an exchange. An exchange he would gladly offer them. After all it were the dwarves that have kept what was rightfully his for far too long.

Mithrandir's words rang like an unwanted admonition in the back of his head. But he did not want to hear anything of giving up on those gems. The wizard was a fool when he thought that Thranduil would simply let them go. Surely not now that he was so close!

This time he would not fail, he would take home what belonged to him.

He tossed away the bedsheets as he could not find any rest and rose from his bed, throwing a silken robe around his shoulders. He turned towards the decanter but decided against another glass of wine and for a breath of fresh air instead.

As he motioned to pull apart the drapes a tiny ball of grey feathers shot through the opening gap and over Thranduil's head with great speed, sending snowflakes everywhere as it zoomed around slightly disoriented. It was a little bird chirping excitedly, fluttering around the tent in search of a place to land.

Thranduil ducked his head instinctively, but once he recognised the small blackbird hen as one of his winged messengers from the palace he welcomed it gladly, offering it his outstretched fingers to land. The bird flapped its wings hurriedly as it landed and then ruffled its feathers, all tousled from the snow storm, its tiny beak gaping restlessly as it sought to catch its breath. The bird leaned into the Elvenking's hand that was now gently stroking its minute head, glittering eyes like small black pearls looking up curiously to him as he spoke to it soothingly, smoothing its feathers until it had calmed down enough to be able to divulge the information it held.

"Tell me my little friend, what word do you bring from the palace? You come with haste, is there anything unusual going on?"

Thranduil continued to run his fingers through the fluffy feathers, seeing as the blackbird thoroughly enjoyed the attention the Elvenking bestowed upon it. Swollen with pride the little messenger now piped eagerly.

"Indeed my lord. Your human guest is more restless than ever." It jumped from the king's fingers onto the bedrest as Thranduil had walked over to the bed and taken a seat on the edge of the bed, eyebrows knitted in concern.

"How so?"

"My lord, Brethilwen believes she is making plans to leave the palace." The blackbird hopped along the wooden backrest excitedly, the tiny head bobbing up and down rhythmically as it moved.

This was not good. This could not be happening, he thought to himself. Not now, not with him being stuck here in Dale, so close to the treasure he so much desired and war looming on his doorstep.

"Are you sure of it?"

"Yes, my lord. She has been seen collecting food and other items and finding a secret spot to hide those belongings."

"So it is true then." He nodded slowly, his gaze absentmindedly shifting from the blackbird to the drapes being ruffled by the winter wind.

If only he knew if she was leaving to search for him or if she was running away to look for the wizard. He rose from the bed, his robe carelessly sliding off his shoulders and landing on the floor in a silky heap of grey, leaving him only with a thin silver tunic that flowed around his body in delicate waves with every step. He clasped his hands behind his back and began his restless pacing, the blackbird fluttering around him obediently awaiting its master's command.

He knew that there was no way for him to keep her in the palace unless he were to use force or magic, both of which he did not feel inclined to resort to. If her leaving the palace could not be prevented he needed to at least make sure she would not be falling victim to the dangers that loomed in the forest. She had to stay safe until he would be able to get back to her and find her, wherever she might be.

The blackbird zoomed around the tent, watching the king's pacing with rising impatience, finally settling on Thranduil's chair.

"My lord, what are your orders? What do I tell Brethilwen?"

"The sword, the Queen's sword, make sure she finds it. It will be the only weapon effectively protecting her in the thickets of Mirkwood. And whatever else she might need. Brethilwen will know what to do. She always does."

Thranduil knew that he could count on Brethilwen's loyalty as well as her discretion when it came to his personal matters.

"Yes, my lord, of course. Will there by anything else?" The bird cocked its head sideways following the king's motions with its keen eyes.

"This will be all." Thranduil reached for a loaf of bread on the small table beside his chair, tearing off crumbs and spreading them on the surface.

"One more thing: be sure to keep this secret. Only Brethilwen must know, no one else in the palace and least of all my guest. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my lord, crystal clear!"

The little bird nodded dutifully, happily picking the breadcrumbs before it would start back to Mirkwood.

* * *

The forest would have to spare its king still for a good while to come and whatever she was up to, Thranduil could only watch from afar, hoping that his misgivings would not prove themselves to be true.

He needed that breath of fresh air now more than ever, so he picked up his heavy cloak, snatching an apple from the wooden bowl on the table as he left and decided to head for the stables, where everything lay now dormant in this darkest hour of the night. Thranduil slipped inside quietly, passing Odmund who lay sound asleep on a provisional bed huddled against the wall made out of hay and mismatched rags. It was not difficult to spot his elk as its antlers towered considerably over the horses' heads around him. As kingly mount it had been given the best and most sheltered corner in the back, where it had ample space to eat and rest before it would carry its master to battle. A smile dawned on Thranduil's face as a sneaky ray of moonlight cast a pale light on the majestic features of his loyal servant. Sensing the presence of its master the elk raised its head curiously to then bow it in a gesture of reverence when Thranduil reached out to stroke its thick hair in between the antlers.

"Yes, I know the hour is late, but I cannot find sleep." Thranduil spoke softly while allowing his fingers to ruffle through the soft fur.

"And I see that neither can you."

He pulled out the apple from under his cloak and the elk took it with a happy snort, crunching loudly as he devoured it eagerly.

"You seem restless my old friend." Brown eyes so dark they almost appeared black looked intently at him, and he saw his own uneasiness staring back at him from their depths.

"I know you wish to go back home. So do I. But you also know that I have unfinished business to attend to."

Thranduil diligently brushed through the shaggy mane along the neck, the elk rearing its ears as it listened patiently. "And no matter what, I must bring this to an end or else I will never find peace."

The elk sniffed the air curiously, gently prodding Thranduil's shoulder in search of another treat. "No, I don't have another one, besides this is not what you should be eating anyway." He chuckled at the elk's insistent nibbling and then said with a slight frown:

"And don't look at me like that, you know this has to be done. Only then will I be able to truly move on."

With skilful strokes Thranduil's hands made their way along the flanks, the firm muscles under the thick fur flexing beneath his touch, and the Elvenking's mind still revolving around the news his messenger had unveiled to him.

"And even then I might come too late after all." He paused for a moment to then add: "She might be running away from the palace." Thranduil suddenly stopped his ministrations, a deep sigh escaping him. "This is all my fault. I should have never left her behind."

He shook his head absentmindedly and pinched the bridge of his nose, the amiable poking of the elk's snout against his cheek eliciting a strained smile.

"Yes, I know, you only mean to console me, but I fear that bad things might happen. The shadow of darkness is spreading once more and it will be more dangerous than ever out there, even more so for a human with little to no knowledge of our world." He returned the elk's gesture with a friendly ruffle, his gaze now lost in the darkness of the stables.

* * *

A throaty cough behind him made Thranduil turn around sharply, the blurry outline of a man silhouetted against the open gate of the building. Despite the softly spoken words Odmund had awoken with the commotion in the stables and stood now drowsy and baffled at the sudden presence of the fabled Elvenking before him. The sight of the tall and intimidating figure made him bow instinctively and he thought it best to resort to a quick apology.

"I am so sorry my lord, but I must have fallen asleep. I was not expecting your visit."

In lack of anything else to say he simply bowed again, hoping that Thranduil might not be as unforgiving as his reputation that preceded him.

"You have no need to apologise. I did not announce my visit." His words were well chosen and not hostile, but not exactly friendly either, so Odmund kept his guard up.

"I hope you have found everything to your satisfaction. I have made sure your elk would receive the best care possible. Of course given the circumstances, I am afraid what I can offer is quite limited."

He shrugged apologetically while brushing off hay from his waistcoat.

"Yes, everything is fine." Thranduil gave Odmund a benign nod. "I know that the losses have been grievous."

"Indeed my lord, they have."

A moment of awkward silence during which Thranduil assessed Odmund with a curious glance was finally broken by the king's question: "I take it that you provided Amardir with your swiftest horse as I have instructed?"

"Yes, I did as I was bidden." Odmund's face tightened considerably and intimidating Elvenking or not, he had to unburden himself.

"To be honest my lord I must admit that I was reluctant to give Silvermane away. She is my treasure. You must know that we have lost many horses in the fire."

He was ready to dive into another elaborate explanation of his dire situation, but the rather strained look on Thranduil's face prompted him to only say:

"But of course your request is my command." Still he could not hold back his curiosity. "No one told me though what for she was needed, but I suppose it must be quite an important mission."

"If you mean to ask me where will your horse be heading to then please, by all means, do not hesitate and simply ask." What he kept to himself and didn't say was: I won't cut your head off, even if the thought is quite tempting. Thranduil might have been tired but that did not prevent him from being annoyed, moreover it rather augmented it. He raised an eyebrow and luckily for his nerves it did not take Odmund long to catch the drift.

"Yes, I would very much like to know, as I wish for her safe return."

"Gundabad will be the destination in search for my son and I can assure you that I am most grateful that you were willing to offer your best horse for this task. I will make sure that you will be most richly rewarded."

A sudden shadow descended on Odmund's square face at the mention of this cursed place and he said in a grave voice: "That is very generous of you, but that won't be necessary. Silvermane's value cannot be measured in gold. She was my daughter Edda's horse, you know."

"When you say _was_ , you mean - ?" Thranduil asked tentatively, his mood suddenly shifting away from annoyance to empathy.

Odmund nodded, his voice now shaky. "We lost her when the fire came. I thought that she was with us, but then the flames drove the horses mad and they bolted. I did not look back and then she was gone. My wife had to hold on to the little ones and Edda, our oldest, had helped me with the horses. Silvermane was her most treasured possession, you must know, so she went after her." His face had turned the colour of ash when he added in a resigned tone. "But only the horse returned — alone. Edda never came back. Silvermane is the only thing we have left of her."

"I understand." Thranduil clenched his jaw, Odmund's grievous loss momentarily pushing his own worries to the back of his head. "But can you be sure that she is indeed gone? Have you searched for her?" he insisted, his gaze never leaving Odmund's pained face.

The Elvenking's sudden interest in his fate took Odmund by surprise. "Well, yes, we did go back of course but as you well know ruins are the only thing left of our city and we had to move on and come to Dale with our other children and the horses." With bitterness in his voice he added: "We had no other choice."

"Do not despair. There might still be hope." Thranduil looked out through the open gate, the faint blue gleam of dawn beginning to push away the darkness of night.

Odmund shook his head, his expression shifting in between disbelief and hopelessness. "I do not think so. Too much time has gone by."

"You cannot give up hope until she has been found." Thranduil's voice did not allow for dissent. "I will instruct my men to search for her. It is the least I can offer you in return."

Tears of gratitude found their way into Odmund's tangled beard as he bowed deeply in front of the Elvenking. "Thank you, my lord." He fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, words beginning to fail him.

"I hope that you will find your son as well." The last words from Odmund's mouth were nearly swallowed by his choked voice.

Thranduil's wordless gaze rested on the stout man bowed with grief before him and in a fleeting moment the farrier and the king were just two fathers hoping against all odds that their children might be alive and well after all.

To be continued …

* * *

 _Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this latest chapter with a bit more about the brothers Faeldir and Amardir. We also see Thranduil's mounting concern about Anna possibly leaving the palace (we of course already know that she has left, but this chapter takes place a few days before). And well, after all Thranduil shows us that he is a father with a heart maybe not completely made of ice, offering help to find Odmund's daughter. Also: say hello to Silvermane, the grey mare will still play an important role...AND last but not least, I hope you liked the little birdy and Thranduil's elk :)_

 _As always: reviews, favs and follows are GREATLY appreciated! Thank you guys :)!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 18 ^^!_


	19. The Scarlet Tide

**Thank you so much to all those lovely people who have reviewed the preceding chapter: Emperor DeLacus, thrndlwood, ElectricSheep78, Raider-K, dreamgoneby!**

 **And all those who have favourited and/or followed this story! You are all wonderful! Thank you!**

 **Here I am with a new chapter and I am taking you from Dale to Dagorlad, so I apologise in advance for the suffering, the pain and the feels *hands tissues to everyone***

* * *

 _Chapter 18 - The Scarlet Tide_

 _Death is a cold, blindfolded kiss_

(Sleeping At Last: Emphasis)

As much as Thranduil might have been hoping for another private conversation with Gandalf, the circumstances did not allow it. Things had come thick and fast after they had presented Thorin with the Arkenstone and it became quite clear that the new King under the Mountain would not be open to any type of bargain. The dwarf was not pleased at all to see the heirloom of his house in the hands of an elf and a human. And much to Thranduil's dismay the hobbit was pushed quite rudely off the dwarves' territory once it was revealed how did the precious jewel find its way into their hands. He should have stayed with them, just like Thranduil had suggested and not put himself at the mercy of this obstinate dwarf that was behaving as unruly as ever.

They had marched up to the barred gate of the Mountain, the blue banner of Lake-town and the green one of the Forest waving side by side in their unified attempt to claim their share in the riches of Erebor. Thranduil still hesitant to open war, but Bard fiercely convinced that no gold would come forth from the mountain unless they took it by force.

It was an impressive sight indeed, the Elvenking towering over everyone else as he sat proudly astride his elk, the majestic animal bridled for battle, antlers swaying slightly as Thranduil reined it in to take its place in the vanguard of his army. A silver circlet crowned the king's impeccable tresses that cascaded over his shoulders, waves of palest gold gleaming bright against the polished black of his armour. His twin swords were safely sheathed in black leather scabbards on either side of his body, deadly and beautiful in their elvish craftsmanship.

And behind him rows upon rows of elvish archers and spearmen, all in perfect formation, a sea of gold beneath the dull wintry sky filling the barren wasteland. Fearless warriors, the paragon of utmost discipline and composure, moving or halting as one at a subtle wave of their king's hand.

But nothing moved until suddenly the earth trembled beneath them and from the eastern spur of the Mountain a cloud of dust rose and heads turned towards the unexpected arrivals, Men and Elves in surprise and Dwarves in delight for it was none other than Dain, son of Nain and his kin from the Iron Hills. Surely those were the allies Thorin had hoped to call to his aid, Thranduil saw his suspicion now confirmed. The dwarves were many and a hardy folk, clad in the strongest steel mail, wielding two-handed mattocks as well as short broad swords and roundshields slung around their backs. More and more streamed down the slope and into the valley, ready to expel the besiegers from their position.

And if he wanted or not, it would come now to a battle at last, a battle which Thranduil was prepared to fight and to win. He would not suffer any more dwarves barring the way to his treasure.

" _Ribo i thangail!"_ His sharp command cut through the cold winter air like the edge of a knife as he brought his archers in position behind the shield-fence to break the first wave of attacks that would surely hit the Elves soon enough. Bows were drawn and spears were lifted as Thranduil's warriors moved in place, their oval shields forming a nearly impenetrable wall of defence in front of their king.

The valley shook beneath the tremendous force of the oncoming sea of dwarven warriors. Spears and swords were heaved against mattocks and shields, raised high in the air and ready to clash against each other, but as the first blows rained down the surging barrage was drowned by a terrible darkness descending on friend and foe and a foreboding of doom suddenly took hold of everyone. An all-encompassing and unnatural darkness that came from the North and engulfed Men, Elves and Dwarves, stalling their motions and laying an eerie veil of silence upon them. A silence only to be vehemently broken by the most terrifying noises, ear-splitting screeches like fingernails scratching on glass that made everyone's hair stand on end.

Terror was in Thranduil's eyes at the sight of what had come at last, Sauron had indeed unleashed his army of evil servants, a rumbling like that of thunder filling the air as unnumbered orcs, bats and wargs streamed into the valley. And inevitably he would have to face the shadow once again. A shadow that had veiled his heart since that fateful day long ago and he had hoped never to see rise again.

Alliances that had been broken were hastily remade if the darkness was to be defeated and soon enough Elves, Men and Dwarves stood side by side to face the rising night before them. A night that was dark and full of terror like the one Thranduil had witnessed when he was but a young prince following his father into a battle that would change his life forever.

Space and time might separate Dale from Dagorlad, but to Thranduil it did not seem all that different. In the end war was always the same: a bloodthirsty beast with the hungry shadow of death on its heels, taking lives at a frightening pace.

"Hold your ground," he called out with a voice both clear and powerful as he encouraged his warriors, the gleam of dread in their valiant eyes, "and do not fear the darkness. We will not allow it to prevail. The light will chase away the night and we will be victorious in the end!"

Those were the words of his father, words that he had eagerly soaked up as a young elfling and that had left him with a bitter aftertaste nevertheless, one that would remain ever present for the rest of his life.

* * *

The sky had been heavy with clouds and the Silvan Elves under his father's command had been restless, impatient to show their strength and eager to put the orcish force in their place. But their independence bordering on stubbornness would be their undoing and his father's doom.

Elhadron never left Thranduil's side as Oropher led his heated charge against the overwhelming host of Mordor, dust and smoke rising high above them and the foundations of Arda trembling beneath as hundreds of thousands of feet stormed across the battle plain. The prince of Mirkwood and his loyal companion had no choice but to rush along with the wave that carried them ever closer towards their enemies. Silver blades swayed through the air and bows were drawn, taking aim at the king's command. And with a clear call ringing through the air countless arrows poured down from taut bowstrings at the legions of orcs ahead.

The clashing of the armies was swift and horrifying, a deafening cacophony engulfing Thranduil in between his father and his friend. He clung to his sword for dear life as he braced himself for the assault that was upon him. One quick glance and a brief nod were the last things he would know of his father before the torrent of bodies swept him away. In the blink of an eye the moment was gone and the breath was knocked from his lungs as the force of the hostile onslaught hit him. Black scimitars were swung high above a sea of hideous faces bearing down upon the attackers and bestial grunts accompanied their brutal blows that came with quick succession.

Orcish shapes slumped to the ground as the elvish arrows hit their marks, still the wave of opponents rolled on relentlessly for their armour was strong and their bodies resilient, bred by Sauron for only one purpose: covering all of Arda with darkness and despair. But the elves were as purposeful in their attack as were the orcs and so the crashing of the light against the shadow turned into a barbaric slaughtering where none would yield and no prisoners were taken. Heads were sent flying around, limbs chopped off with fierce strokes, blades cut through armour and flesh and an ever widening stream of black and red coated the battlefield.

Thranduil gripped his sword with both hands, a pitiless gleam in his eyes as he dealt blows left and right, his gaze moving swiftly from one target to the next as he ploughed his way through the black mass before him. The deadly dance of impeccably coordinated slashes and thrusts would have made Oropher proud of his son if only he had been given a chance to look. But the king was busy fending off blows from a group of enemies that had set their aim on isolating him from his army, hoping that taking out their leader would demoralise the elves, making them an easier target to vanquish. Thranduil's gaze shot towards his father as the realisation of this wicked plan sunk in and panic surging in his chest he called out to Elhadron, hardly being able to drown out the deafening clatter surrounding them.

"My father! Quickly, we must rush to his aid!" Thranduil's eyes were wide in anxious worry. "They are trying to cut him off!"

Elhadron spun around as he pulled his blood-stained sword out of an opponent's chest, the lifeless body slumping to the ground in front of him with a dull thud and being carelessly trampled upon by his comrades who kept pouring in, the crushing of skulls and armour accompanying their clunky steps. With a silent nod Elhadron pushed his way through the orcs, punching a particularly nasty specimen in the face with the hilt of his sword, sending him right flying back into the drawn scimitars of the ones that came behind him, and knocking out another one with the back of his fist, the distinct sound of cracked bones conjuring a satisfied smile on Elhadron's face. But the smile vanished as he reached Thranduil and understood the gravity of the situation.

The ring of enemies was closing in on the king, the elves who valiantly protected him with their own lives being cut down at an unsettling speed and leaving the king vulnerable on more than one side to a direct attack.

"We must divide," Elhadron called over the noise, quickly assessing the situation, "you will take the left flank and I will make my way around to the right one. Our only hope is to engage enough of them in combat to pull them away from your father and give him space to fight back."

Thranduil nodded in agreement, glad to have a friend by his side with wise words and a quick blade, and then they parted, each of them pushing against the incoming stream of foes that threatened to separate both of them from their king, square and massive bodies crushing every living thing in their wake.

But Thranduil matched their force with one that was as unrelenting as it was refined and with determination he slowly broke his way through the turmoil that had his father caught up in the middle. Rising anxiousness spread through his veins, but he could not allow his juvenile fear to cloud his mind, only if he like Elhadron stayed on target, his father stood a chance of making it through this merciless massacre alive. With steadfast hands he brandished his sword, his beautiful face a grim mask, the swirling blade slicing across multiple throats, his victims stunned by the sudden force that hit them, stumbling and staggering backwards as a horrible gargling sound escaped their mutilated windpipes and their bodies crumpling in a disorganised heap around the prince. But he heeded not their wailing and stifled screeches as he stepped over their fallen shapes. He did not show mercy for none would be given to him by those vile beasts. He retreated his sword only to thrust it into the next spiteful creature that had the misfortune to stand in his way, the elegantly curved metal dripping with gooey and dark blood as he pulled it out again.

There, a shock of silvery hair in the midst of a sea of black jagged shapes and the occasional golden dot of a fanned helmet in between, there was his father, valiantly fending off his attackers with gracefully flowing motions. Thranduil's heart was pounding like a drum, fear and hope mingling in his chest as he drew closer, knocking over orcs that lunged at him from left and right. He increased the fierceness of his attacks dealing alternate blows with his blade and the blunt end of his sword's hilt as he went, hoping to make it through to his father on time.

 _Faster, do not slow down!_ He told himself as he parried off another stroke aimed at his chest and slit the attackers throat in a calculated swing.

 _Hit them before they hit you!_ _Don't let them get to you!_ His father's words rang in his ears, words of advice he had heard a hundred times in their sparring matches back in _Eryn Galen_. _Anticipate their next move and you will always be one step ahead!_ He might have inwardly groaned at his father's insistence, but he knew now that those unnumbered afternoons spent in endless practice sessions were what kept him going in the midst of this mayhem.

Twirling his sword in his hand he used the momentum of the fallen victim to his advantage and propelled himself over the dead body, stabbing another one in the gut as he landed on his feet with unwavering gracefulness.

 _There! Another one down!_

But there was no time to enjoy his short lived victory as more orcs kept pouring in, egged on by unfettered bloodlust. A picture of misery unfolded itself before his eyes and the dreadful thought of defeat suddenly came crawling into his mind. The revolting stench that emanated from the corpses littering the battlefield filled the air with putrid fumes and Thranduil had to fight back the bile that rose within him. The noise of metal grinding against metal and the dissonance of the orcish foes in their grunting, taking delight in their murderous rampage, was nearly unbearable, threatening to drown out every clear thought in Thranduil's head, the shadow of despair knocking insistently at his heart's door.

But, no he could not allow himself to give in to the murmurs of hopelessness. Not while his father was alive. And he needed his help!

 _Now move on! Stay focused!_

He had to keep his calm in the face of the horrific chaos that threatened to swallow him and shove him away from his father. His blood-stained hands were one with the smooth metal they enclosed, the relentless choreography of his deadly blade leading him on, pushing him ever further.

Closer and closer he drew to his father, who was still trapped, scimitars hacking with unrelenting force and more often than not breaking through the king's crumbling defence. Oropher swirled around, his sword following his motions in a blur of silver as he aimed at his enemies' chests with targeted thrusts. But there were too many, he was hopelessly outnumbered, for every orc he cut down, three took his place, fighting ever fiercer as they tasted elvish blood.

Thranduil could see Elhadron ploughing his way through the enemies from the other side and a renewed burst of energy filled the prince as he caught a glimpse of his father's eyes, exhaustion mingling with relief at the sight of his son.

* * *

But then the king fell, brought down to his knees by a vicious stab from behind, his eyes widening with the force of the blade piercing his lungs. An outcry of pain drowned in his throat as the scimitar was twisted in evil delight and then pulled out purposefully slow, a hideous grin spreading on the assailants face when he saw the look of horror in Thranduil's eyes.

"Ada!" A choked cry was the only thing that escaped him as he blinked back hot tears.

"There is your king," the orc cackled, forcing Oropher's head up with a brutal grip around his hair, brandishing the blood-stained scimitar like a trophy in front of the prince, "not so noble any more now that I cut him down, eh?"

Thranduil stood helpless as his father's silver blade dropped to the ground and he clutched his chest with both hands, a scarlet sea blossoming rapidly on his golden armour, his face a frozen mask in the strain of trying to maintain a look of dignity even in the moment of utter defeat.

The orc bared a row of misshapen teeth as he made a show of ostentatiously licking the edge of the rough blade, tasting the king's blood and revelling in the power he held over the fallen Elvenking.

"Should I end his misery and cut his throat or should I let him bleed to death slowly like an animal?" he asked, his voice dripping with mocked courtesy and his grip tightening relentlessly around Oropher's silver tresses.

The colour drained from Thranduil's face and for a moment he was thunderstruck, unwilling to accept the reality of what just took place right in front of his eyes. This could not be happening, his father, his beloved Adar, the strong and powerful king, invincible and deathless as he had always appeared to his son, could not be losing his life by the hands of a foul servant of darkness. With surging hatred he found his voice again and he spat angrily at the orc.

"Don't you dare lay your filthy hands on my father!"

His words were adamant and his glare was a sheet of frost and when he rose to his full height, his silver armour gleaming beneath the dull sky, cloak billowing around him and waves of silvery gold framing his face, the light of the Eldar shone from within him and for a moment the orc flinched as if being whipped by a blinding light.

Using the momentary hesitation to his advantage Thranduil stepped closer, trembling fingers closed tightly around the hilt of his sword, his eyes darting in between the orc and his father, who was only kept upright by the orc's iron grip, his arms now hanging limp by his sides, knees threatening to give in under his weight, when a sudden cough shook him and sent a torrent of blood trickling from his mouth. Thranduil had to resist the urge to simply charge forward in a reckless attempt to save his father and in the process possibly running straight into the orc's scimitar. He knew as much that then Sauron's plan would have succeeded indeed and both the king and prince of Greenwood the Great would have met their violent deaths on the battlefield.

Thranduil swallowed hard as he held his father's gaze, the gleam of pride now dimmed by agony and the consciousness of his own death casting a shadow on their bright blue. No words of warning passed his father's lips, but Thranduil knew that one wrong or imprudent move could cost him his own life.

"Don't you get any closer, elf or I _will_ slit his pretty throat!" The orc's raucous voice rang with menace as he poked the edge of the blade into Oropher's neck, casually drawing a fine line of red as he cut into the skin with pure deliberation, the king's face taking on an even whiter shade of pale.

Shock and disgust at the orc's sadistic delight stalled Thranduil's steps, loathing mingling with the horror he already felt flooding his insides. From the corner of his eye he could see Elhadron drawing near the orc from behind, so he needed to keep the captor's attention on himself long enough for Elhadron to make his move.

"Let him go, you witless spawn of Sauron, or I will cut your own throat before you can say another word!"

Murderous resolve rang through his words as he swung his elven sword in front of the orc, the blade sticky with the bloody remnants of countless foes it had cut down. He was playing a dangerous game, but the fear for his father's life and the hatred for the creature that held him captive brought forth a courage and recklessness that was not unlike his father's.

But the orc would not be so easily discouraged.

"I don't take orders from an elf princeling!" he barked back with spite, "and if you keep annoying me, I will cut you down too, I bet your blood tastes even sweeter than your father's."

"No, not my son —," Oropher's raspy voice was barely audible as he was struggling for breath, his hands groping blindly for the sword that lay on the muddy ground before him.

With an evil snort the orc kicked the sword out of Oropher's reach.

"Where you're going, you don't need that any more, elf!" he grunted. Taking delight in the king's helplessness he yanked his head back with one harsh pull, a stifled cry of pain escaping Oropher as a thick stream of blood burst from his chest.

"Enough!" Thranduil clenched his jaw, his heart aching at the pitiful sight before him. How much longer he could bear to witness his father's suffering without being able to do anything about it he did not know. All the noise around him was drowned out by the unbridled torrent that was his own blood pulsating in his ears and the insane staccato of his heartbeat.

Elhadron's head kept bobbing in and out of sight as he made his way through the ring of assailants, pushing down opponents as he went, it was only a matter of seconds now until they could attack the orc from both sides. Seconds that stretched into endless eternities as Thranduil desperately waited for the right moment to strike. Lithe and graceful he slowly inched closer, his tall grey boots treading lightly on the soft muddy ground beneath him.

"You will not leave this battleground alive, filth!" Thranduil growled with as much condescendence as he could muster, his eyes never leaving his father, who grew weaker with every trickle of blood lost, precious time wasting away.

 _He was going to lose him if this took any longer. He had to make a move, soon! If only Elhadron would advance faster!_ Thranduil thought to himself in despair.

But then suddenly everything happened so fast and unforeseen that Thranduil could only stand and watch helplessly. In one last desperate attempt to free himself Oropher lunged for the black hands above him hoping to loosen the iron grip around his hair, but the orc evaded the king's hands and with one brutal motion he sliced the tender skin of Oropher's neck, blood gushing instantly from the fresh wound.

"Nor will your father!" A lopsided grin of satisfaction spread on the hideous face at his work of evil and the pure horror dawning on Thranduil's face.

But the mad cackling died in his throat as his own head was cut off by a swiftly swung blade from behind. It fell to the ground with a muffled thud, blood bursting from the abandoned neck, his body remaining erect as if in stubborn denial of the finality of death, fingers still tightly clamped around the king's hair.

Behind the decapitated orc Elhadron's tall figure appeared, dark-haired and steely eyed, a look of pure revulsion distorting his fair features, his sword still held high, and with a disdainful glare he kicked the body to the ground, where it gave one last twitch as Elhadron buried his sword once more deep inside his ribcage.

* * *

Thranduil instantly dropped his own sword and burst forward to catch his father who was slumping down now that the tight grip upholding him was gone, his body weakened by his lethal wounds and heavy blood loss.

"Ada," he sobbed, "Ada, please, no!"

The prince sank to the ground and pulled the limp body of his father onto his lap, holding on to him as if he could prevent his _fae_ from leaving his _rhaw_ if only he embraced him tightly enough. He did not care anymore about royal composure and let his tears of despair flow freely, his hands clutching his father's bloodstained ones, the harsh frost of death beginning to creep under his father's skin. Oropher's breathing was shallow and irregular and a steady trickle of blood flowed from his wounded chest and mutilated throat, his half-lidded eyes straining to focus on his son's face.

Elhadron stood guard over them, more elves streaming to his side, and finally pushing back the orcs, fending off anyone that threatened to get close to father and son.

Thranduil helplessly pressed against his father's wounds with the palm of his hands, hoping to staunch the flow of blood.

" _Iôn-nín_ , you must go —," Oropher fought against the searing pain in his chest, trying to string the words together, but every word uttered brought forth another gush of blood, the spirit of life trickling from his body at an alarming rate.

"Lie still, Ada. I will get help. I will make sure you will be all right."

He spoke in a soothing voice, more trying to calm himself rather than his father, who only managed a weak smile at his son's words, his eyes beginning to dim as the shadow of death descended on him.

Thranduil looked up to Elhadron for help. "We need to get my father out of here, his wounds need to be taken care of." Panic surged inside him when he did not see any reaction from Elhadron.

"Why are you not doing anything? Don't you see that he is gravely injured?"

Thranduil's blood-stained fingers trembled as he feverishly sought to bandage his father's wounds with strips from his cloak, all the while speaking softly to his father as if he were a little elfling to be soothed.

Finally Elhadron knelt beside him, laying a hand on Thranduil's shoulder and the effort it cost him to keep his voice from breaking was palpable in his words. His king was dying before his eyes and his best friend, the prince was in frantic despair, still stubbornly refusing to accept the inevitable.

"Thranduil, my prince," he spoke in the most measured voice possible, not allowing the torment inside his chest to wash away the last remnants of composure he still held on to, "we cannot get your father out of the battlefield. The moment of calm we have will only last mere minutes, we do not have enough men to fight off the orcs long enough. There are too many in between us and a safe place."

"What are you saying? What do you mean by this?" Thranduil said in an accusatory tone, his eyes darting from his father to Elhadron, their piercing blue veiled with tears.

"You know what I mean to say. We are in the midst of a battle." Elhadron struggled to keep his calm. "It would take us too long and it would be too risky." Elhadron's words were beseeching and when he met Thranduil's gaze the realisation of the truth blossomed in the prince's eyes, but still he shook his head in disbelief.

"You cannot mean that. We cannot leave my father here." He clutched at Oropher's blood-soaked armour as if wanting to desperately prove his point. "If we leave him here, he will not get any help, his wounds will keep bleeding. He is going to die, can you not see that? Is that what you want?" Breathless and broken was his voice when he turned his eyes away from Elhadron back to his father.

"You know that is not true. This is not what I want," Elhadron said, but Thranduil heeded not his words.

"I will not leave you here to die. You will live, you must!" Thranduil gently took his father's face in his hands, his fingers leaving trails of red on the pale cheeks already marked by death.

Oropher's voice was barely a whisper. "No, I — cannot. It is too late." His words faded away as the breath of life left him and his eyes searched for one last glimpse of his son's eyes before the starlight was forever dimmed in their crystal blue.

"No, no, Ada! Don't—!"

Thranduil collapsed on top of his father's lifeless body, tears flowing and sobs shaking him uncontrollably. Elhadron said nothing but sat stunned with grief beside him and for a moment everything stood still around them.

Hopelessness and despair took the young prince as he was bent over his father, his arms wrapped tightly around the limp form. He pressed his mouth against his father's forehead, tears and blood mingling on his lips in a bitter kiss of farewell.

"Ada, please don't go," he murmured into his father's hair, the familiar scent of forest flowers still faintly present beneath the veil of decay that would soon claim victory over the Elvenking. A comforting smell of home he desperately inhaled, for it would be the last thing he could take back to a home that would be forever different.

"You have to come back with me." He looked at his father's face, his noble features solemn now that he had exchanged mortal agony for the peaceful serenity of eternal rest.

This was not how this was supposed to end, his father was meant to return home victorious with his son by his side and a satisfied smile on his lips. The bitterness of death was not something he had ever wished to taste and least of all like this.

Elhadron was the first to come to his senses and with a gentle tug at Thranduil's shoulders he hoped to break through the wall of misery.

"Thranduil, my lord, you must stand up. _We_ must stand up and fight." There was urgency in his voice as the battle still raged on around them and the protective ring of elves would not hold forever with the oncoming host of orcs crashing against them with relentless force.

It took Thranduil a moment to realise that Elhadron had addressed him as king, his words suddenly giving an unexpected finality to his father's death. He looked at Elhadron, the haze of sorrow still clouding his vision, but the reality of him being a prince no more beginning to sink in. The fate of his people was now in his hands and if he did not want them all to perish, he had to pull himself together and do what his father would have wanted him to do.

"We cannot stay here. There will be a time for grief, but it is not now. We must do what we came here to do and that is stop the darkness," said Elhadron as if he had read Thranduil's thoughts.

Thranduil nodded slowly, still reluctant to let go of his father's body.

"We will come back for him, I promise." Elhadron seemed to anticipate his friend's concerns once again.

"Yes, you are right, we must finish my father's work." Thranduil forced himself to push his overwhelming grief back into the furthermost corner of his heart, where it would lay safely hidden from the world as he assumed his new responsibilities as leader of his people. A swiftly pulled up wall of icy composure would be his shield, an impenetrable layer of frost to keep his wounds sealed away. It was the only way he hoped to keep his heart from shattering beneath the weight of his sorrow.

Thranduil accommodated his father's body as best as he could on the ground and whispered: "You _will_ come home with me Ada, I promise," and with firmness in his voice he added "and I will avenge your death."

He picked up his father's sword as well as his own and as he stood proud and tall over Oropher's lifeless body, a deadly blade in each hand, his gaze was cold and clear like a diamond and the fire of retribution burned hot in his heart.

Turning towards his friend he said: "We will leave none alive."

"Yes, my lord." Elhadron nodded and the resolve in his eyes made it clear that he would follow his new king to whatever end.

Their wrath was terrible and a furious rage guided the hands of the new king and his old friend that day. Like flashes of silver their blades danced through the shadows overhead, a scarlet tide washing over their foes.

Darkness would not be victorious that day.

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _ribo_ \- rush

 _i_ \- the

 _thangail_ \- shield-fence

 _Eryn Galen_ \- Greenwood the Great

 _iôn-nín_ \- my son

 _ada_ \- father

Italic sentences other than the Sindarin ones are Thranduil's thoughts.

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry for the bloody massacre, but I wanted to present this battle as realistic as possible. In my headcanon (for this story) Oropher's death in the Battle of Dagorlad (3434 SA) takes place before Thranduil's wife is killed. And as you have seen in preceding chapters he acquires the scar not from this battle but the one in Gundabad when trying to rescue his wife. Again, this is all my personal headcanon for this story, not Tolkien's writing. Although he of course did not mention anything of dragons in the Battle of Dagorlad either, as a matter of fact, he did not give any information on Thranduil even having any scar at all. This is purely PJ's invention._

 _Another thing: Gil-galad and Elrond (being the two most important elvish characters in this battle) are not present in this chapter, it is not that I forgot about them, but for my storyline they are not essential, as I wanted to focus on Thranduil's perspective witnessing his father's death and the importance of his friendship with Elhadron._

 _Also: if you have been paying close attention to details, it is after his father's death that Thranduil fights with two swords, which is the way we see him also in BOTFA. I wanted him to have his father's sword as a memento, reminding him always of why he keeps on fighting the darkness._

 _As always, favs, follows and reviews make me very happy :D! Thank you and stay tuned for Chapter 19^^!_


	20. Recklessness and Reconciliation

**A BIG thank you to all those lovey readers who have reviewed the previous chapter: ElectricSheep78, Lydwina Marie, Emperor DeLacus, thrndlwood! And also to those who have faved and/or followed this story! I appreciate every single one of you 3!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter... back in Dale, where Faeldir fights bravely and Thranduil desperately hopes to find his son alive...**

* * *

 _Chapter 19 - Recklessness and Reconciliation_

 _Life is a gorgeous, broken gift_

(Sleeping At Last: Emphasis)

"Leave none alive!"

The echo of Thranduil's words rang in Faeldir's ears as he valiantly stood his ground amidst the elvish army, ready to follow his king to whatever end. He had finally managed to put aside the worries for his brother, keeping them in a somewhat remote corner of his heart. If Amardir could face a pack of orcs all by himself then he was willing to take on an entire horde of them as the soldier he was hoping to be.

Still, it was not what he had expected. It was by far worse, the noise tremendous and the dense clouds of dust wafting through the valley and mingling with an ineffable stench as the battle grew ever fiercer. On and on they pushed through the orcish lines, side by side with the dwarves and the men of Lake-town, intent on preventing the enemy from getting too close to the mountain. Faeldir must have lost count of how many foes attacked him and how many he had cut down, the only thing he was sure of was that he could not allow himself to slack, after all he had promised his brother that he would fight for both of them.

Soon enough it became apparent that the orcs' strategy was to cut them off from the city, so Thranduil had to turn his back on the mountain and the treasure inside it if he did not want to sacrifice the people that had just escaped the dragon fire and had found shelter in within the ruined city, hoping to recover from their losses.

"Fall back to Dale!"

Loud and clear was the Elvenking's command despite the insane rumbling of the multitude of voices that raged around Faeldir. Holding on to his sword, he charged in the vanguard of the elven soldiers towards the bridge that spanned the river. Trying to stay close to the king, who had broken into a gallop on his elk, he sped on as fast as he could, finishing off the orcs that had managed to escape the king's sharp blades. The city gate came into sight, but the Elvenking did not slow down, but rather increased his fierce pace, determined to wipe out as many enemies along the way as he could. Faeldir did not look left nor right, his eyes set on the cantering elk that was relentlessly ploughing through a group of orcs ahead, impaling a whole bunch of them in between his wide antlers and Thranduil cutting off their ugly heads in one wide swing.

Suddenly the elk's graceful motions stuttered and in front of Faeldir's eyes the majestic animal first swayed lightly, staggering left and right as Thranduil tried to rein it in. A myriad of hostile arrows brought the elk down to its knees, the massive shape collapsing in a huge heap of brown fur in the middle of the city gate.

Fear clawed at Faeldir's heart as he leapt over the orcs' dead bodies barring his way, afraid that the king himself might have been wounded or worse. He struggled to get past the lifeless animal, streams of blood forming small puddles of red around it. Thranduil had swiftly descended from his fallen companion and Faeldir could see him on his knees, trying to regain his poise, a pack of bloodthirsty orcs only waiting to cut him down next.

Faeldir's contempt for those horrid creatures now turned into blind hatred, knowing how much this animal had meant to the king. Rage spurred him on to rush to Thranduil's side, notwithstanding the ring of enemies that was closing in now around both of them, more and more orcs streaming towards them from the crooked alleys of Dale and isolating them from the rest of the incoming elven army. Faeldir stood defensively in front of Thranduil and brandished his sword in a menacing way at the advancing orcs.

"You may think yourself victorious in having killed the king's mount," he spat at their ugly faces, "but I would advice you not to crow too soon!" Daring and foolish as it might have been it was the only thing his mind could come up with as he was trying to play for time.

"Move aside elfling, you won't stop us from slaying your king!" cackled a particularly nasty looking specimen. "Or do you really think you can fight us alone?" The whole group now breaking out in derisive laughter at the look of horrified defiance on Faeldir's face.

"He is not alone." Thranduil's voice was cold as ice and full of disdain when Faeldir saw him get to his feet and take a stand beside him.

A wordless nod and a gleam of appreciation in Thranduil's eyes were enough to boost Faeldir's confidence and he straightened himself, steading his sword beside the king, whose twin blades were a deadly menace, threatening to cut down anyone who dared to lay a hand on his young soldier.

And so they fought side by side, a synchronised dance of silver blades relentlessly cutting through the ring of enemies. Together they pushed them back, spinning around, ugly bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps around them as their fury carried them on.

And if ever there was a young elf worthy of the word valiant, Faeldir was the one who would with no doubt deserve such praise.

Relief soon came when the rest of the elven army broke through and a multitude of swords and spears were raised beside Faeldir and the king.

The battle though was far from over, but rather increased in fierceness, the men of Lake-town joining in as best as they could in defending their city against the enemy they so thoroughly despised. Many of them ill equipped and untrained in wielding a weapon, they fought with what little means they had, finding courage in their open display of hatred as their battle cries filled the old alleys of Dale. Fear and determination equally present on faces that were mostly either too young or too old to be thrown into this merciless mayhem. Faeldir found one of them looking oddly familiar amongst the crowd that followed Bard, charging past the elves and deeper into the heart of the city. Only that he had exchanged the dark red waistcoat for a makeshift armour of sewn together patches of leather, which fitted snugly around his belly and matched the colour of his thick brown hair and beard. He might have been as far from being a warrior just like the others, but he made up the lack of technique with determined swings of his broad sword at the orcs lunging at him and more often than not his aim was good enough to allow him to keep the nasty opponents at arm's length.

Faeldir did not tarry in making up his mind, but hurried after the group of men as they made their way into the upper parts of Dale. This was just another opportunity to prove himself as an able warrior, something he felt he dearly longed for, the compelling reward for his heroic deeds stretching like a golden light on the horizon before him, inciting the young elf to even more daring deeds of bravery. If he had been able to come to the king's defence it should be a much simpler task to watch out for Odmund. In a way Faeldir could not quite explain to himself, he felt responsible for the farrier's life. After all he was the one who had provided the horse for Amardir and if he could not do anything about his brother he could at least try to make sure Odmund would live to see Silvermane return to him.

Orcs were pouring in from the lower levels and to Faeldir's terror he could now even clearly see the massive outline of a troll looming over everyone and ploughing his way through the narrow streets, swinging his immense club with evil delight and smashing people by the dozen if they dared cross his path.

Tall like an undersized mountain on legs and a skin that resembled greyish rocks overgrown with patches of dirty green moss and lichen it looked like something out of those stories his older brother used to tell him in the halls of Mirkwood when he was a little elfling, sending pleasant chills down his spine as he listened with wide eyes. A shiver ran down his back indeed now, but it was far from pleasant with mortal danger so close at hand. Faeldir increased his pace as it became clear that the troll was heading directly towards the group of Odmund.

It trampled closer at a remarkable speed, leaving a wake of devastation behind him, and whatever buildings had remained standing were now crumbling and burying all those beneath them that could not flee fast enough. Odmund as the rearguard had turned around, startled by the sudden increase in destruction behind them, and almost dropped his sword as he glimpsed the giant shape approaching him. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to move and his eyes wide in horror. Most of their group had been able to squeeze themselves into a narrow passageway that connected one alley with another, finding shelter at the last moment. A young man was shouting in panic and gesticulating wildly as he tried to pull Odmund away.

"Move! Don't stay behind!"

He grabbed Odmund's arm in a frantic attempt to get him to move further into the archway and away from certain death.

But Odmund only stared in disbelief at what came at him, muttering to himself words that only he could understand, and finally his comrade had to accept the futility of his effort and turned away, but not without calling back over his shoulder:

"You better search for cover or this will be the end of you! Stubborn old man!" And with a disgruntled shake of his head he was gone.

As the troll was thrashing along like a crazed beast Faeldir jumped nimbly over rubble and dead bodies alike hoping to take on the troll before it reached Odmund. Horrible grunting noises filled the air and the ground trembled beneath the heavy feet that were roughly the size of stone slabs.

He could see Odmund still motionless, seemingly resigned to his fate, people around him shouting in high pitch voices as they scattered away and mothers pulling their children towards the nearby archways for shelter. The farrier did not even make an attempt in raising his sword to protect himself, the hopelessness in his eyes spurring Faeldir on to make his move. He reached for the silver dagger that hung from a leather scabbard around his hip, a gift from his brother of which he was particularly proud. Not only was it beautifully crafted, but it was also lightweight with a blade that was both thin and extremely sharp. Perfect for what he was about to attempt.

And in a moment of recklessness and courage and probably a considerable amount of foolishness he flung himself at the giant mass beside him, his elvish light-footedness aiding him to his advantage as he propelled himself upwards. He reached for the rags, which the troll wore draped around his bulky chest, to hold on to. The troll swayed slightly and came to a sudden halt, sluggishly turning his misshaped head around to find the source of the nuisance on his back which he could not quite locate. In the momentary confusion Faeldir hoisted himself even higher, reaching out with his right hand for the clunky set of rusty chains hanging from the troll's neck. If he could get a good grip around them, he could aim with his dagger for the vulnerable artery this monster surely must possess. The stench emanating from under him and the coarse and rugged skin beneath his fingers made him shudder with revulsion, but the thought of Odmund and his brother kept him in focus and he crawled still higher.

In the meantime the element of surprise was gone since the troll had realised that someone was clinging to his back and he was beginning to move around furiously, all the while uttering unintelligible grunts. Faeldir had to evade the giant saucers that were the troll's hands attempting to strike him and brush him off like a bothersome fly. He got a better hold of the chains and swung along the troll's broad back, and suddenly from the corner of his eye he could see Odmund brandishing his sword and yelling at the top of his lungs: "I am coming! Hold on!"

It seemed that the sight of Faeldir attempting to take on the troll all by himself had woken Odmund from his trance-like state and risen his spirit. With his blade held high, swinging it surprisingly agile above his head, he charged at the giant enemy. Tackling the troll from front and back they soon got him thoroughly confused as he struggled to make up his mind if he was going to either clobber Odmund to smithereens or squish Faeldir to a pulp with his bare hands. It was a difficult decision that occupied all of the troll's minute brain, so Faeldir seized his chance and pulling himself further up on the rattling chains towards the massive shoulder he managed to position the dagger right between the multiple folds of the troll's wobbling neck.

He needed to act fast now.

The troll had risen his club, ready to deal a deadly blow, but Odmund pressed himself against the nearest wall beside him, evading the hit and the club smashed the ground instead.

Now was the moment to close in for the kill.

In a fraction of a second Faeldir buried the blade up to the hilt in the troll's neck and a deafening roar like from a wounded beast spilled from his lopsided mouth and echoed through the narrow alleyway. Faeldir clung to the chains and pulled with all his might to retrieve his dagger, but the troll was staggering backwards and barging against the walls as he howled in pain, making it nearly impossible for Faeldir to get a good grip on the hilt.

 _Come on,_ he said to himself.

 _Just a bit more_. He yanked stronger. Almost, but still not enough.

He tried twisting it, but the troll's body seemed indeed to be made of stone rather than flesh, so the blade would not budge easily.

 _Amardir will kill me if I lose this dagger,_ he thought desperately as he fumbled with all the strength he could muster.

One more pull and he could feel it almost come lose, but then the troll began tumbling backwards. He seemingly had lost control over his legs after Odmund had dealt a blow at his shins. Faeldir looked behind him and the nearby wall had come dangerously close. He had to jump off if he did not want to be turned to mush in between a dead and a living piece of rock.

 _But not yet, not without the dagger!_

He yanked once more while the troll swayed like a drunken man, his wailing deafening Faeldir's ears, and finally the blade came lose!

"Yes!" he exclaimed in joy.

But then his breath was knocked from his lungs by the force of the impact that hit him. Searing pain shot through his chest when the bones of his ribcage cracked as he was smashed against the wall and then the troll's massive body came crashing towards him like a rock.

A gasp of agony escaped his mouth and then everything went black and silent and the last thing he remembered were his fingers closing tightly around the hilt of his dagger.

* * *

Unaware of Faeldir's misfortune just a few streets away, Thranduil made his way through the heaps of dead bodies, the whole extent of the massacre now unfolding in front of his eyes. Too many lives had been lost already and he was no closer to reclaiming his necklace as the mountain still lay under fierce attack. They had been able to secure wide areas of Dale with the combined effort of Bard's men, pushing the orcs back outside into the valley, but the gems he had come to win back still eluded his grasp.

Doubts about the rightfulness of his quest began to prey on his conscience with obnoxious insistence, the words of Elhadron, Amardir and even Gandalf coming to his mind. Maybe the treasure he so much desired was not buried in that mountain after all. He felt that his heart pulled him back to Mirkwood, back to where he had left it behind, with this strange girl that had broken through his shields like no one before. And while he was fighting a battle over those shiny jewels, she was there alone fighting her own battles in a world she still barely knew. He could not even give himself a clear reason anymore why he had been so adamant about her staying in the palace. Was it really because he worried about her safety? Or was he too afraid to admit his own feelings for her and rushing into this quest was a welcome escape from having to face what his heart had whispered to him in many lonely nights? The answer was right there if he only listened closely, but his pride did not allow him to give in just yet.

With a resigned sigh he tore his eyes away from the dead soldiers around him, their blank eyes only reminding him of another worry that weighed heavy on his heart, which was the uncertainty surrounding his son's fate. Amardir had not come back yet and for all he knew Legolas could have even perished in Gundabad. But this was a thought so terrible he quickly pushed it back into the darkest corner of his mind. Maybe he had returned and joined the fighting without him knowing?

The distinct cantering of hooves cut through the king's gloomy thoughts as he moved past the lifeless bodies, the tension in his chest nearly unbearable as he silently prayed not to find his own son among the fallen ones.

"My lord!"

A determined voice called out to him from behind and when he reluctantly pulled his eyes away from his macabre search he saw Amardir on Silvermane galloping with haste towards him. The surging joy at this welcome sight drowned in a cold wave of disappointment when he noticed that he had come back alone, no sign of his son or Tauriel beside him. A sense of foreboding crept like a stealthy shadow into his heart, but he was intent on not letting his distress float to the surface.

Amardir brought the horse to a halt beside the king, dismounting hurriedly and addressing Thranduil with a curt bow. Thranduil greeted Amardir with his usual unwavering gaze, his voice commanding and calm.

"What news do you bring from Gundabad? I see that you returned alone. Why are my son and Tauriel not with you?"

A mixture of concern and apprehension dawned on Amardir's face. "My lord, I did find your son and Tauriel on their way back from Gundabad, both of them unharmed. But I am afraid that the news they brought with them are of the rather unsettling kind."

The brief flicker of relief on Thranduil's face turned into a concerned frown at Amardir's next words.

"It seems that there is another orc army under the lead of Bolg marching on us from the North. Legolas and Tauriel saw them emerge from Gundabad." He tried to steady his voice, the horror of what would soon be upon them casting a shadow on his eyes. "They are bringing more fell beasts with them, legions of bats, darkening the skies as they fly overhead their army."

"I see. This is a most unpleasant albeit not completely unforeseen complication." Thranduil knitted his brows before returning his gaze to Amardir. "Still, this does not explain the absence of my son. Where did he go?" He would have to deal with those unnerving foes soon enough, but first he needed to have clear his son's whereabouts.

Amardir hesitated for a moment, anticipating a disapproving reaction from his king at what he was about to reveal.

"Ravenhill," he said with a meaningful nod and lowering his voice to nearly a whisper, "that is where they went."

"Ravenhill?" Thranduil repeated, raising one eyebrow in scepticism. "Are you sure of that?"

Whatever Amardir had or had not prepared as explanation, it was cut off by the arrival of someone not altogether unexpected.

"King Thranduil!" boomed Gandalf's sonorous voice, his distinct grey figure emerging suddenly from one of the lower archways and Bilbo trotting like a loyal shadow behind him, looking utterly overwhelmed and perplexed by the mere chaos into which he had tumbled. The wizard possessed an unmatched ability to appear on cue seemingly out of nowhere, ready to give unsolicited advice to all those that were in within hearing.

Thranduil turned around slowly, his look of annoyance barely concealed behind a strained sigh. "Ah, Mithrandir, always on time, aren't you?" Without giving Gandalf time to answer he continued matter-of-factly. "But I must warn you: unless you do have further information as to what drove my son and Tauriel towards Ravenhill, I do not have the time for another lengthy conversation right now."

Unperturbed by this less than warm welcome Gandalf greeted the Elvenking with a jovial smile. "If you would just briefly lend me your ear, I believe I can be of help."

"How so?" Thranduil inquired, the doubtful frown on his face turning into a small smile as he bestowed a benign look upon Bilbo, who looked even more out of place in this forsaken battlefield than he had in the king's tent. Still, beneath the distraught expression on the hobbit's face, his eyes shone with gratitude that, against all odds, he had made it this far alive.

"Master Baggins, I am relieved to see that you are quite unharmed."

Bilbo replied with a wry smile and a curt bow, swiftly sheathing his bloodstained blade in the presence of the Elvenking.

"Yes, mostly intact indeed," he said with a nervous chuckle, "but I have to admit that I am less than fond of all this blunt violence."

"Well, I am afraid that this will not be over any time soon. As Amardir informed me we are expecting another orc army to attack us from the North."

"This is why I need to speak with you," Gandalf interjected, "Thorin has gone with his most trusted warriors to Ravenhill to take out Azog and they will be sorely outnumbered if no help comes their way."

The realisation of what his son's intentions had been began to dawn upon Thranduil and for a moment the conflicting emotions tearing at his heart became apparent on his face. He clenched his jaw as he turned again to face Amardir. "So this is the reason why my son did not come back with you." It was a statement, not a question, still Amardir obliged with a dutiful nod.

"Yes, my lord. I have been meaning to tell you that they wished to help the dwarf and his nephews rather than return to Dale."

Thranduil's face was a frozen mask, a king's anger and a father's worry struggling inside him as he spoke again. "He knows very well that I would have never given sanction to this! They are not the dwarves' rescue party. I have spent enough elvish blood in defence of this accursed land."

"Do not be too hard on your son," Gandalf rose to speak, "he is only trying to do what he thinks is the right thing."

"You mean what Tauriel deems the right thing. And what could easily get them both killed, you forgot to mention that." Thranduil shot Gandalf an icy glare. How could he condone his son's insolence?

"That is why you should be sending your men up there to join them and help the dwarves. This battle is far from over and if you leave now, their fates are sealed."

"With your permission," Bilbo suddenly chimed in, "if there is still time I will go up to Ravenhill and try to warn Thorin." He countered Gandalf's doubtful frown with assurance in his voice. "You know very well that I am agile and nimble and I can go unnoticed if I wish to do so." Upon seeing what he thought to be a condescending smile on the Elvenking's face he added "I am not afraid, even if I might look it and I may be small, yes, but that does not mean that I cannot also have courage."

"I have never doubted your level of courage, Master Baggins, even if it sounds to me bordering on recklessness what you are suggesting."

Thranduil tilted his head sideways and eyed Bilbo curiously, still trying to determine if his suspicion concerning the hobbit's remarkable skills in the art of disguise would anytime soon be confirmed.

Gandalf's stern voice cut through his thoughts like the rumble of a nearing thunder.

"Not just recklessness, but folly! You will be seen and killed. I will not allow it!"

"And I will not discuss this with you and you will not talk me out of this," Bilbo pouted, putting on his most austere face and wiggling his finger in front of the wizard's face. "Not this time. It is the least I can do for my friends."

Gandalf squinted and opened his mouth to form another objection, but thought better of it and simply closed it again, muttering something about 'obstinate' and 'hobbits' into his beard. He had not quite counted with the willpower of hobbits, which at times could apparently rival the dwarves'. Or maybe Bilbo had simply spent too much time with the dwarves and their obstinacy was starting to rub off on him.

Whatever is was, the smug smile brought upon Thranduil's face by Gandalf's perplexed expression did not escape Bilbo. He smiled back briefly just to turn away without any further ado and was soon swallowed by the crowd, or so it seemed.

But there was no time for an awkward silence, Thranduil knew that speed was paramount, and there was little time for council if he wanted to get to Ravenhill and make sure that Dale would not fall into the hands of the orcs. Plans were swiftly made and strategies devised and Amardir was left with detailed instructions on how to proceed.

"You will stay here." Thranduil concluded their talk. "Look for Feren and make sure the defences hold."

"Yes, my lord." Amardir nodded. "Anything else?"

"Make sure Silvermane is returned safely to Odmund. His daughter is still lost, there is no need to add to his already grievous losses."

"Of course. I will see to it." He hesitated for a moment. "One more thing though I wish to ask."

"Yes?" Thranduil's patience was beginning to wane, as he was hoping to get away quickly.

"Have you seen my brother? I very much would like to know if he is unharmed." The concern in Amardir's voice was quite obvious despite his effort to sound as calm as possible.

"He fought valiantly by my side and seemed very eager to prove himself," Thranduil said with appreciation.

"Yes, that is exactly what I am afraid he is trying to do. He can be quite reckless, you know that as well as I do." Amardir only managed a strained smile.

"You may go and look for him if that is what you wish to do. As long as you make sure to see to your duties."

"Thank you my lord," Amardir said gratefully.

"And what will you do? Where will you go?" The wizard looked curiously at the Elvenking, although by now he surely must have guessed the answer.

"You know very well where I will be going."

Facing Amardir he said: "You told me _where_ my son has gone," and turning towards Gandalf he added, "and you told me _why_ he has gone there. I will go to Ravenhill and I will not be coming back without him."

There was resolve in his voice and in a more nonchalant tone he added "In the meantime you, my dear Mithrandir, might want to call on your own special allies for help against the incoming assault. If it is true what Amardir says, we will need all the help we can get."

"Yes, a wise thought indeed." Gandalf nodded in agreement and gave an encouraging pat to Silvermane who had waited patiently beside Amardir to be returned to her owner. The wizard seemed quite pleased with this outcome and with a friendly smile he said to Amardir: "We better get going and prepare ourselves before those nasty orcs surprise us."

* * *

And so Thranduil left the city of Dale behind.

With swift strides he cut through the battlefield, bracing the incoming orcs with unrelenting violence as he made his way back towards the mountain and up the steep slopes that led to Ravenhill, apprehension and hope mingling in his heart as he hurriedly ascended the roughly hewn stairs. A dense flurry of snowflakes swallowed the clamour that echoed through the valley beneath him, wisps of white vapour emerging from hidden crevices and ghostly shadows dancing around the grey boulders like eerie spectres.

Something did not feel right. It was quiet, too quiet for his liking. What if he came too late? He would never forgive himself if his son had been injured or worse. He forbade his thoughts to go any further and sped up his steps instead. Instinctively he tightened the grip around his swords as he increased his pace, the possibility of an ambush lingering around every hidden corner. Thick clouds shrouded the desolate towers, the snow that had begun to pile up painted with red and black, the knot in his stomach tightening at the sight of every lifeless body he passed by.

Please let it not be him, was all he could think of as he took another flight of stairs, his cloak caught in an icy gust of wind and billowing behind him like a black banner.

Dark and unpleasant loomed the tunnels of this ruined fortress, outlines of corpses filling the narrow passageways with bizarre shadows. Jagged shapes stuck out in odd angles, but nothing moved, bodies as dead as the stone on which they had collapsed seemed to be the only inhabitants of this forsaken place. His mood darkened with every step he advanced into the unknown. But somewhere in this labyrinth of crumbled walls there had to be his son and Tauriel and he would not leave this place until he found them, either way. He held on to the hope of finding both of them alive, although faced by the sheer amount of dead bodies strewn across the entire fortress he had to force himself to not let his confidence dwindle.

There, another turn, another twisted staircase, and still no sign of his son, only more bodies frozen in death and streams of red winding themselves like meandering veins through the blemished blanket of white. He turned left into a crooked hallway under the main tower, which eventually fanned out into several other passageways, his steps echoing softly in the darkness as he reached the cavernous centre of this gloomy area. His eyes on the ground, he quickly scanned the bodies, plump shapes of grey in the ever darkening hallway, his heart in a constant loop of relief and despair as he walked by them one by one.

Not him, he repeated to himself over and over again, not my son.

But where was he then? Why was he not here?

This could only mean one thing.

He needed a moment to collect himself. His feet wouldn't carry him any further, terrified of what he might find. The worry about his son had taken over all his thoughts and he was not being reasonable anymore.

He sank against the wall and buried his head in his hands, hope beginning to fade with every minute trickling away, the proud Elvenking bowed with grief, convinced that his son was lost indeed.

A wave of hopelessness broke through the impenetrable armour of the fearless warrior as he closed his eyes, the shield of self-control crumbling beneath the all-consuming fear for his son's life. And then the haunting images of his own father dying in his arms flooded his mind, an overwhelming sensation of emptiness washing over him as he suddenly saw himself clutching at his son's lifeless body instead. The mere thought of losing his child pierced him like an icy dagger, the cold creeping into the very corners of his heart as he stood on the brink of letting himself fall into the abyss of despair.

He bit his knuckles to stifle a sob that welled up inside him, his mind lost in the nightmares of his own imagination. The icy grip around his heart turned into a delirious fever, a scorching heat laying bare the old wounds of dragon fire as the magic that concealed them burned away in the blazing fire of his emotional turmoil. The all too familiar sting of sharp pain rushed through his veins and he had to hold on to the wall behind him to steady himself. His breath was shallow and his fingers trembling, searching for support along the rugged surface as he fought the flames that consumed him from within. He stared into utter darkness when his left eye went blind and he feared to crumble beneath the pain that boiled in his blood.

Always had he been able to pull himself together again and push back the darkness that threatened to swallow him when the fire returned. There had always been something to hold on to, something that kept him going. But now things were different. He had lost so much already, but at least his son had been there. And now he was gone too. What reason was there to keep on living?

Why should he fight the fire? Why should he not just give in to the seductive murmurs of the shadows that lured him into the realm of eternal oblivion? He was tired, so tired of fighting. Fighting for ages, fighting against the darkness, against a foe that had taken away everyone he loved. A foe that seemed to always win no matter how much he fought back. He did not have the strength anymore, there was only so much even an Elvenking could endure.

Another wave of pain shot through his body like lightning, sending him staggering backwards and instinctively he reached for the hilt of his sword. His fingers closed one by one around the soothingly cool surface of the metal. There was only one more deed he must ask of his loyal weapon.

He needed to end this now. End the pain and the suffering; once and for all.

From the depths of his clouded mind he heard his son's voice calling out to him through his own delirious haze.

"Ada!"

"Yes, _iôn-nín_ , I will be there with you," he whispered blindly into the darkness.

Thranduil unsheathed his sword with trembling fingers, the searing pain that seemed to burn him from inside out rendering his motions shaky and erratic.

"Ada!" There it was again, only closer now. "What on all Arda are you doing?"

It could not be real. How could it? His son was gone.

He struggled to see, but he had already descended too far into the darkness that was welcoming him.

"Father, please stop this, whatever it is you are doing!"

And then there was a firm hand pulling his own away from the sword.

"Legolas?" Was this another feverish vision mocking him? "Is that really you?" His heart did not dare to believe just yet, but the warmth of his son's fingers around his own slowly pulled him out of his misery, the flames inside him receding, the pain ebbing away.

"Yes, I am here with you."

"I could not find you! I thought I had lost you! I though you were —," he started, but then his voice failed him.

He searched for his son's eyes in the darkness, and as the foggy veil began to lift he saw their familiar crystal blue staring at him in shock at his emotional state.

Before Legolas could say anything else Thranduil flung his arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace, holding on to his only child like the most precious treasure on all Arda. Startled at first at this unexpected display of affection Legolas stood motionless, his father's arms wrapped around him, but then he gave in to the overwhelming sensation of comfort and safety and closed his arms around his father in return.

An incredible wave of relief rushed through Thranduil as he felt his son alive and well in his arms.

For how long they stood in this wordless embrace they could not tell, but it seemed to both of them that it was something long overdue.

To be continued …

* * *

 _Author's Notes: After showing the Battle of Dagorlad from Thranduil's POV I wanted to present the Battle of the Five Armies from a different perspective, at least partially. That is why I gave Faeldir a chance to show his abilities in the first half of this chapter. Also I didn't like the scene in between Thranduil and Legolas (and Tauriel) in BOTFA, so I decided to take a different path. I really think father and son deserve a chance to reconcile (and a HUG!). And there will be more of that in the next chapter._

 _I hope you have enjoyed this chapter :D!_ _Reviews, favs and follows make me really happy :D!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 20^^!_


	21. Helping Hands

**A BIG thank you to those wonderful readers who have reviewed the previous chapter: Lydwina Marie, Raider-K, Stardust43, Emperor DeLacus and a Guest :)!**

 **Thank you also to those who have followed and/or favourited this story! You are all the BEST!**

 **Here comes the next chapter with more insight into the much needed Thranduil and Legolas reconciliation:**

* * *

 _Chapter 20 - Helping Hands_

"I have been searching for you!"

"So have I," Legolas mumbled into his father's shoulder as he allowed himself to sink back into the blissfulness of his childhood, even if it was to last only a moment in time. The warmth of his father's embrace took him back to those happier days that were now all but a long lost memory.

How much he had enjoyed the tenderness he used the receive from his parents, the strolls in the forest with his father and the cuddles with his mother in their cosy hideaway. His father would entertain him with endless stories of his youth in Doriath and Legolas would sit and listen quietly in awe, soaking up all the wonders of a city that was beautiful beyond his own imagination and places turned to legend through the ages. In the mild evenings of spring they used to sit by the fireside, the three of them, in a clearing so full of daisies that the grass seemed dotted with freshly fallen snow. He loved staring into the flickering flames as they danced before his eyes like tiny speckles of pure light and when his drowsiness finally turned to sleepiness he curled up in his mother's lap, the melodious voices of his parents carrying him to sweet slumber as they sang of starlight and the secret of the forest. And the buzzing of fireflies in the warm nights of summer with the balmy scent of wild flowers filled his childish heart with innocent joy. He inhaled the crisp air of late autumn, when the skies were a clear blue in scattered patches high above the spindly canopy of trees, oblivious to how fragile his happiness might actually be.

But then the change of seasons melted into one dreary cloud of muddled grey when his father returned from Gundabad, struck down by both dragon fire and grief. He was only able to catch a small glimpse of his father when he rode back into the palace, slumped onto his elk, which knew its path and carried its master back into the safety of his halls. But what he saw was enough to terrify him, never had he seen his father so gravely injured before, his armour broken and torn, his left side burned almost to the bone and the pungent smell of burnt flesh etched forever in his memory. The lengths of the Elvenking's usually impeccable hair singed and blackened waves of silvery gold cascading over his face. A face which he barely recognised after the dragon's wrath had left its merciless imprint on those graceful features. Clots of dried up blood clung to charred skin where it had not been completely melted away, laying bare sinews and white bones beneath. And his eyes! Never would he forget the harrowing emptiness of the ghostly white one staring at him and the overflowing sorrow within the crystal blue, the brilliant starlight inside only flickering weakly, like a smothered flame choking slowly, until it would be forever dimmed.

Beneath all the horror the worst part of it all just began dawning on him. His mother was nowhere to be seen. This could only mean one thing. She would not come back to him ever again.

Panic surged inside him and he shrank against the column as his father passed by him and guards, servants and a whole array of officials swarmed to the king's side. They pushed the small elfling ever further away and the bustle of voices drowned out his childish attempts at getting close to his father.

Suddenly there was the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice whispering to him from behind.

"There is nothing you can do for him now. Let us not linger here."

He did not need to turn around to know that the voice belonged to Tauriel and the warmth of her hand alone was like a homely hearth when his whole life seemed to fall apart in front of his eyes. She then searched for his hand and with a gentle squeeze she said: "I am sure the healers will take good care of your father."

The tight knot in Legolas' heart threatened to burst in his chest if he so much as opened his mouth so he only managed a silent nod and squeezed her hand in return.

"I am so sorry for your loss," she said quietly.

He finally turned to face her, his lips trembling in the effort to hold back tears that were burning hot in his eyes. "But, my mother —," he croaked.

"I know how you must feel," she said, trying to remain calm in the face of her friend's emotional distress. "Come with me and let them do what they must. We can go to your favourite tree and wait for the stars," she suggested, hoping to lift his spirits. "I will stay with you, I promise."

He hesitated for a moment but then allowed her to pull him along through the rising scuffle as more and more elves streamed in, fearful as to what might have been the outcome of their king's quest. The atmosphere was laden with anxious commotion as it became clear that this was not a victorious return and they made way for the prince, pity on their faces as he passed them.

On their way out his eyes were drawn to an intimate scene in the shade of a nearby archway, slightly removed from the clamour around the king. It was a pair of brothers standing with their mother, a noble lady with an aura of pearlescent elegance. Silky waves of chestnut brown hair framed her delicately chiselled features. With her near translucent skin, high cheekbones and sea green eyes Idhriel was truly an exquisite beauty. But there was a distinct air of frailty about her that made her appear almost removed from this world, as if her spirit only lingered reluctantly.

The smaller boy clung to the folds of her flowing gown of indigo blue and the older one stood silently beside his mother, one arm slung around her shoulder in comfort, while he sought to uphold an aura of dignity.

"But where is Ada? Why is he not here?" the little elfling whined, tugging impatiently at the rustling folds, his eyes wide and his rounded cheeks blushing in agitation. The older one answered in their mother's stead as she seemed too pained to take notice of her son's insistent questioning.

"You know why," he hissed in his brother's direction, but deliberately loud enough for Legolas and Tauriel to hear him, as they passed by. "He had to embark on this unfortunate mission and contrary to the king he was not lucky enough to come back alive." The spite in his words was unmistakable.

Tauriel stopped in her tracks, letting go of Legolas' hand and taking up a stance in front of the tall dark-haired elf, arms akimbo and her chin resolutely pushed forward. She barely reached his shoulders, but what she lacked in size, she made up with fervour.

"How do you dare speak like that about the king, Amardir! And even more so in the presence of his son!" She was positively fuming as she pointed with her head towards Legolas, who stood silently by her side, pale as a sheet. "Has he not also lost a parent? And yes, the king came back, but at what cost! Did you even see him?" She narrowed her eyes and glowered at Amardir, ready to talk back should he try to challenge her.

"Well, of course, if it isn't the king's most precious protégée, coming to the prince's rescue!" He bowed mockingly in front of Tauriel, assessing her with a belligerent glance and only because his mother beckoned him to be silent he reluctantly swallowed the perfect answer he had prepared should Tauriel pick up the gauntlet.

"Don't, please," Idhriel said, sensing that that was exactly what Tauriel had in mind and a verbal thunderstorm was the last thing her nerves needed right now. Though her voice was gentle as a breeze in spring, her words were firm: "Tauriel is right. The prince has enough hardship placed on his young shoulders already as it is. There is no need to add more to his suffering with your hateful words."

"Better listen to your mother, her wisdom might be good for you," Tauriel snapped at him, standing as tall as she could and fixing Amardir with a dangerous spark in her eyes. The smug look of satisfaction on her face suddenly brought Legolas into the arena, waking him from his paralysing silence.

"Tauriel, please, let us simply move on."

He knew his friend's capability for heated arguments all too well, especially with Amardir, it seemed to be a sport of sorts for the two of them, but he did not have neither the heart nor the energy for this; not today. All he wanted to do was hide forever in the darkest corner of the forest until the world had come to an end; get away from this place that suddenly had lost the touch of home.

Amardir clenched his jaw, his grey eyes slowly pulling away from Tauriel and then boring into Legolas' reddened ones as he bit back another answer and reached out for his little brother instead.

"Come Faeldir, we should leave. There is nothing here for us to do."

The little boy was reluctant to let go of the folds he had clenched so tightly in between his small fingers, something that provided him with a meagre sense of security when the black pit of the unknown seemed to open up before him.

"But I don't want to go! I want Ada," he sobbed, "he promised to come back! And with a story about the dragon!" He was on the verge of tears and it took Amardir a great deal of patience to convince him to move one single inch.

"I can tell you a story about a dragon if you promise to come with me now," he said, leaning closer to his brother and adding in a mysterious tone "a new one with a really dangerous one. And there is a troll too in the story!"

Faeldir looked up to his brother, the prospect of a new story making him forget for a moment that he was about to cry. "Really, a troll?" He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "Promise?"

"Promise," said Amardir, offering him his outstretched hand and after an approving nod from their mother Faeldir finally took it, clinging now to his brother instead and allowing himself to be led away slowly.

Idhriel remained behind, her gaze now drawn to Tauriel, who had fallen silent as she watched the brothers walk away in their shared sorrow.

"I am sorry if my son's words must have sounded uncalled for. But as you well know, he does not mean any harm. We all bemoan our losses in one way or another and it is not up to anyone to judge their way of grieving."

"Yes, of course," Tauriel said with an abashed nod and then Idhriel turned to Legolas, who was lost in his own purgatory of dread.

"May the light of the Valar guide you through the darkness that lies ahead of you and give your father the strength to heal his broken heart."

And then in the blink of an eye she turned around and was gone, floating behind the silhouettes of her sons into the amber glow of the ever winding hallways of Mirkwood.

The days after his father's return were the hardest in Legolas' young life. The king had been rushed to his chambers by his servants and the healers would not leave his side in the weeks to come. Things he did not understand were happening and people he did not know were coming and going. Hours beyond count he had spent waiting in front of his father's heavy oaken doors, reaching out and then retreating his hand again from the golden brass knob when he heard his father groan in agony inside. He did not know if it were these unfamiliar sounds or rather the nervous voices and busy shuffling of feet that worried him the most. It all melted into one frightful image in his mind of his father slowly dying a horrible death and him being left with no parent at all.

People in the palace would mutter in hushed voices, the words dragon and fire being the most prominent of them all and when he timidly asked if he could please see his father the answer was always the same: "Don't bother your father, he needs his rest."

He was scared and alone and so he took to run away and hide in the forest, sometimes without returning home for days. And if it hadn't been for Tauriel and her comforting presence he would have probably ran away for good.

What he did not know were the endless nights his father spent alone, blaming himself for all that had happened. He knew nothing of the feeling of guilt that made his father close his heart to the one that would have needed his love the most. And nothing of the pain it caused Thranduil to not only have lost his wife but also robbed his son of his mother. It broke the king's heart to know that his son was suffering, but he was afraid to see the look of disappointment and disgust on his son's face, so he locked himself away even more.

When even after months no improvement was noticeable, his advisors, now seriously preoccupied with the convalescence of their king, sent word to Elrond of Rivendell for help.

And help came promptly in the form of a healer and the whispering voices in Thranduil's halls were astir about the new addition to their court. She is too young some said, but she comes with the highest recommendations others retorted. She is not what anyone had expected, all would agree.

Of obscure parentage, this elleth had worked for most of her young life as simple servant in Rivendell until one day Master Elrond himself decided to take her under his wings. She had displayed such remarkable ability in the art of healing and herb lore that he had wished to expand her knowledge and improve her skills. So great were her powers that he considered her beyond anyone else able to heal Thranduil's wounds that were not just wounds of the body but also the soul and would need to be addressed with a considerable amount of delicacy.

And so it came to pass that Brethilwen began her services in the halls of Mirkwood and soon no one could imagine the palace without her, least of all the king himself. What had seemed impossible was not without hope at last. But the healing came with a high price and it was yet another layer of ice encaging his heart to keep at bay the flames that threatened to consume him. And when the king grew cold over time, his son mistook his broken heart for indifference.

* * *

"Legolas, I want you to look at me."

His father's strained voice called him back to the present and when he looked up into the familiar face that was now so different from its usual pristine appearance it revealed to him a truth he had been searching for since those days long past. He wanted to memorise every little detail of those imperfections before the meticulous veil of flawlessness would once again descend on them. The ghostly whiteness of his eye, the skeletal outline of his cheekbone, the melted skin in its roughness running over his neck and most likely down the entire left half of his body. The gaping wounds and charred flesh, he wanted to remember all of it.

"This is who I _really_ am," Thranduil said, each word leaving his mouth with great pain, "what I have been hiding from you." He searched anxiously for a sign of resentment in his son's eyes, but when he only found a wordless gleam of empathy instead he continued.

"I never wanted you to see me like this. I saw the horror in your face when I returned, you must have thought me more a monstrosity than the father you had known."

Legolas vigorously shook his head in disagreement. "The horror that you saw was because I was terrified to lose you. All I ever wanted is to be close to you, try to heal you in my own childish way. But you would not let me. All I ever saw were closed doors and people shooing me away." With bitterness in his voice he added: "That day you returned from Gundabad I did not only lose my mother but my father too."

For a moment Thranduil said nothing, the truth of his son's accusations slowly sinking in. There were too few words for the many things he wished to tell him. The regret of having pushed his son away when he needed him most was choking him like poison. But maybe there was still a chance to make it up to him, maybe he could do the right thing for once. If his son had found the courage to speak his heart, he might be able to do the same. Still he was not good at following the lead of his emotions, having reined them in for far too long.

He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the lingering tremble in his fingers, as he searched for his son's eyes, his own vision still slightly blurred.

"I know that you must have thought of my appearance as cold and my words as harsh, but you have to believe me that I did not want to hurt you in any way."

His son's face remained motionless like a frozen lake, a perfect mirror of his father's usual self, which now resembled more a churning sea of emotional turmoil.

"I was afraid that you would reject me, for what I was, but also for not having been able to save your mother. So I decided to shut myself in and keep you away from me. I was wrong in doing so, in not allowing you to be close to me when you needed me most. And when I would have needed you too." He paused, still struggling to let his heart guide his tongue. "Ages ago I buried my father and when your mother was taken from us, I felt that I had failed not only them but also you. If I could not protect them how could I be a good father to you?"

This was so much harder than what he had thought. Wielding a sword was easier than breaking the chains around his heart and yet if he was ever going to claim victory over the demons of his past he needed to face them with the same bravery he showed in battle.

"So you decided to rather not be a father at all?" Legolas countered with a fair amount of truculence in his voice. It would take a bit more to undo the damage of centuries of indifference from his father.

Thranduil shook his head as he searched for the right words. "No, this was not my intention. And you know that. I always only wanted what was best for you. Even if it meant keeping you away from me. I was not myself in those days and I could not afford you pitying me. After all I was still the king, so my pride would not allow it."

"Yes, your pride has not been doing you much good," Legolas said sulkily and all the ice that Thranduil had built around his own heart suddenly stared back at him through his son's eyes.

He needed to break that ice that held them both captive so he reached out for his son's hands and said: "Forgive me. I was only thinking as a king and not as a father as I should have." He had to force himself to steady his voice when the pressure in his chest threatened to drown his words. "Please don't go away. You are the only family I have and if you go then I am left with nothing."

Legolas looked startled for a moment. "How do you know that I was indeed thinking of leaving Mirkwood?"

"I might not be the best father, but I am still your father and I know you quite well, despite what you may think," Thranduil said, the scars on his face now only a faint shadow as he gradually regained his poise. "I suspected it the moment you followed Tauriel and then when you refused to come back, defying my orders, I was quite certain of it."

Legolas averted his gaze, suddenly embarrassed that his father would see through him so easily.

"You threatened to banish Tauriel," he said reproachfully, looking up to his father again, "even though you must have known that she was acting under the influence of her," he paused to search for the most innocuous word possible, "feelings she had for the dwarf."

"You mean her infatuation," Thranduil countered with a frown, retreating his hands from his son's as he felt his anger surging again. "Her apparent obsession with this dwarf is still no excuse for her defiant behaviour."

"I know that she has disrespected your orders and her actions seem to speak against her." Legolas sought to appease his father, "but please, you must forgive her. She is truly heartbroken."

The doubtful look in Thranduil's eyes gave Legolas the courage to elaborate further. "Kili, the dwarf, was killed alongside his elder brother as well as their uncle. Tauriel fought bravely, facing Bolg on her own, a task not many would be willing to take up, but he was too strong and he slaughtered the dwarf in front of her eyes and Tauriel would have been next if I had not gone together with her to Ravenhill."

A sudden chill crept into the king's heart, being presented once again with the all too familiar sensation of loss.

"You cannot expect me to simply abandon her," Legolas said with ardor, "she has always been loyal to us and the Woodland Realm and if it had not been for her, I might have left Mirkwood a long time ago."

A silent nod was all Thranduil could manage, but Legolas was not finished yet.

"If she does not have a place at your palace then neither do I."

The words hung like a thick black cloud in between father and son as they stood in a wordless gaze.

Never had Thranduil heard his son speak his mind so openly, but then again he had never really given him a chance to do so. He had always taken Tauriel's presence for granted and her closeness to his son was something he had come to accept, albeit unwillingly at first, considering her Silvan parentage. But when he had seen his son slowly finding joy again through her company, it had taken a weight off his own heart and he had silently favoured Tauriel and made sure that she would eventually fill the respectable position as head of the king's guard.

And now his son had come to the rescue of his childhood friend, even if it meant standing up to his own father and risking an even deeper rift in between them. But he could not let that happen. He needed his son, now more than ever, and if he had to reconsider his decision about Tauriel's banishment he would do so. After all he was the king and it was within his power to show mercy if he felt inclined to do so.

"Very well." Thranduil finally broke the silence, his voice determined and his appearance nearly back to its usual flawlessness, "I shall reconsider my decision regarding Tauriel, but you cannot expect me to be overly lenient."

Legolas nodded obediently, an obvious sigh of relief escaping him. "Yes, of course, I understand."

"And I also want you to know that I am doing this for you. I see how much her presence means to you and I do not want you to turn your back on me. There will be a moment for you to leave Mirkwood but it is not now. You are the prince and the kingdom needs you." He looked into his son's eyes, blue and clear like the autumn sky and he added with sincerity "I need you."

A smile tugged at the corners of Legolas' mouth as this was much more than he could have ever hoped to hear from his father.

"I am glad that you want me to be by your side, but I guess you forget that you are not quite as alone as you might think." With a whimsical glint in his eyes he said: "You are all but forgetting your dear guest. She seemed to me more than delighted to be close to you, if you would only allow her to do so."

An awkward moment of silence from his father told Legolas that something was not quite right about her.

"What is it father? Is there a problem? Did something happen to her?" A sudden pang of worry cast a shadow on his face.

"Well, I guess one could say so. Or at least I fear that it could come to that."

When Thranduil had briefly outlined whatever he thought he knew about her possible plans, Legolas only sighed and rolled his eyes in silent aggravation. His father might be a wise king and an able warrior, but in matters of the heart he was not the most skilled. Too long had he spent like a recluse trying to shield himself from more damage.

"So, you are telling me you left her behind in the palace even though she begged you to come along? And now you fear that she might be running away because she is getting desperate?"

Thranduil nodded, a pleading look on his face „What should I have done instead?"

"Well, allow her to come with you of course. Where is she most likely to disappear? By your side or far away from you?"

Thranduil had to admit that his son had a point there, he had not thought about it that way. "I guess you might be possibly right."

"Of course I am right." Legolas had to suppress the urge to throw his arms in the air in exasperation. His father would indeed need a helping hand; more than one maybe. And it was not going to be an easy task.

"So what do you advise me to do? I cannot just leave though, as the battle is not quite over yet and the jewels —"

"Would you please forget about the necklace for once father?" his son interrupted him quite gruffly. "Those gems have brought you nothing but trouble and mother will not come back even if you reclaim your gift for her."

Under different circumstances this would have gotten his son into serious trouble, but today was not like other times. His son only said frankly what others hat told him more cautiously before and now he finally seemed willing to accept the truth behind those words.

"Fine, I _might_ consider putting the gems aside or leave them for a later moment —," Thranduil's voice trailed off when his son raised his eyebrows in disapproval.

"No, not for a later moment, not even a thousand years from now." Legolas stood with his arms crossed in front of his body. "If you indeed want my help then I think you should set your mind now on returning home as soon as possible, and if there is a way to prevent her from leaving the palace, then by all means, do so."

Thranduil nodded, still somewhat reluctant to have to give up on his coveted treasure, but the prospect of being reunited with her sooner than what he had dared to hope considerably lifted his spirit. He straightened himself, his mind drifting through the haze of time. He saw her lonely figure and the aura of sadness that enveloped her when he had left her behind and the pain in her eyes when he had shown himself to her as his spirit animal. All this would now finally come to an end and an air of relief filled his heart like a fresh breeze of unexplored possibilities.

"As soon as we are back in Dale I shall send a messenger to the palace, informing everyone about my imminent return. If luck is on my side this will reach her still on time, before she might put her plans into action." There was a spark in Thranduil's eyes as the sudden thrill of anticipation rushed through his veins. "As you can see, my son, I do rely on your help in this."

Legolas nodded happily, after all it was a rare sight to see his father so unusually at ease.

"I can take care of whatever needs to be arranged in Dale," he offered, "so you are free to go whenever you see fit."

"You would do that for me?" Thranduil began to look at his son in a whole different light. Maybe it was finally time to loosen the reins, grant him more freedom as well as involve him in matters that he had kept to himself for fear of losing control. Seeing his son before him he had to admit that he had grown into a responsible albeit still slightly inexperienced prince and his unforeseen disposition to share in his father's obligations seemed to open a set of new doors for Thranduil.

"Yes, if you put your trust in me then I shall be glad to give proof that I am indeed worthy of it." Legolas underlined his words with a slight inclination of his head.

"Very well." Thranduil accommodated his swords and turned to face the exit of the tunnel, preparing himself to head back to Dale with his son. "We should then not tarry any longer as there might still be skirmishes expecting us on the way."

Legolas nodded in agreement but when they had almost reached the last bend, he stopped in his tracks, a look of preoccupation on his face.

"Ada, could I ask one more favour of you?"

"Of course, what is it my son?"

"Would you speak to Tauriel before we leave Ravenhill? I have tried to persuade her to come with me, but she won't listen. She will not be parted from Kili and I don't know what else to do." There was an imploring look of helplessness in his eyes, knowing that this was not a small favour he asked of his father.

"Are you quite sure you want me to do that?" Thranduil furrowed his brows. "If she does not listen to you, I very much doubt that she will want to hear what I have to say. I do not think that this is a good idea." The crease on his forehead deepened as he considered his son's proposal.

"No, Ada, I beg to differ." Legolas took heart. "It is you she will listen to and no one else, I am sure of it. So please, will you do this for me?"

How could he deny his son this wish after all they had just revealed to each other? Well, he simply could not, so he would need to face yet another broken heart with little hope in being able to mend it.

* * *

Thranduil left Legolas behind, exiting the tunnel alone and soon there was no mistaking her slender form on the far end of the plateau clearly outlined against the sky. The clouds had begun to lift as the evening descended and a warm orange glow illuminated her as she was bent over the limp form of Kili. He approached her slowly, but she seemed to remain oblivious of her surroundings, silently weeping and rocking back and forth in a vain attempt to make sense of what she could not put into words.

And for a moment he did not see the head of the king's guard in front of him, but the little orphan, whose cruel fate had softened his heart so many centuries ago.

There had been an orc raid in a remote area of Mirkwood which had turned into a terrible massacre and when Thranduil had arrived with his warriors he had feared to have come too late.

But amidst the dead there was a small girl, hardly much older than his own son, with a shock of flaming red hair, desperately clinging to her parent's bodies and stubbornly refusing to let go. She would not answer to anyone nor could she be persuaded to move from her pitiful place in between her father and her mother. Thranduil beckoned his soldiers to leave her alone and then he himself stepped closer, kneeling down beside her and from her reddened eyes a bundle of unspoken accusations stared him directly in the face. He spoke to her soothingly and the calming effect of his words finally broke the barrier bringing forth an outbreak of relieving tears as she sank into the Elvenking's welcoming arms. In between sobs he learned that her name was Tauriel and that she was the only one of her family to have survived. He did not think twice about taking her to the palace and offering her a new home and from that day on the strong-minded redhead would curiously roam the king's halls and try Thranduil's patience more than once.

A small smile escaped him at the thought of the countless times Brethilwen had to chase after his son and Tauriel when they refused to come back to the palace pretending that they had been embarking on an important quest and could not be bothered with something as mundane as food or bedtime.

"Tauriel," he called softly, not wanting to scare her and when she finally looked up, guilt and pain spoke to him in a silent gaze and her rebellious spirit lay crushed beneath her broken heart. She had her hands tightly slung around Kili's as if that might somehow bring him back to life and tears streamed down her cheeks.

"We came here as fast as we could, but we were too late," her voice was choked by tears, "I could not save him. I tried, but —."

"Legolas said that you have fought well today, even standing up to Bolg on your own."

"But it was not enough, it did not make any difference in the end." She shook her head in disappointment, biting her lower lip in a futile attempt to stall the flow of tears.

"You and I are quite alike in some ways." For a moment Thranduil decided to put the king aside, addressing her like his equal. "We both do not easily surrender, it is against our nature as fighters. But sometimes accepting defeat is the only victory we can claim."

Tauriel looked at him with disbelief in her eyes.

"We cannot always save the ones we love. Letting go is the most difficult part of loving someone and it is the most important one to learn."

"I remember those words," Tauriel said, her voice barely more than a whisper as she ran her hands gently through Kili's hair.

"I am glad you do. I know it was a long time ago, but it is still valid nonetheless, although you are not a little girl anymore. You have grown to be a fierce warrior with an incredible amount of hot-headedness that is getting you into trouble more than what is good for you."

A fatherly smile dawned on the Elvenking's face and then Tauriel could hold back no longer and the words just poured from her mouth:

"I am sorry that my behaviour has caused you such unrest and trouble, I did not mean to be unruly and never was it my intention to purposefully defy your orders." The remorse in her voice was palpable. "I am still forever grateful that you took me in when I had nowhere else to go and I am willing to accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate for my disobedience."

Thranduil gave her a benevolent nod and offered her his outstretched hand, which Tauriel took with a thankful gleam in her eyes.

"I do accept your apology and surely a disciplinary conversation will be in order in due time, but for now it shall suffice to say that I am glad to have found you alive."

* * *

Without further delay Thranduil now sought to put his plan of returning to Mirkwood into action and he urged Legolas and Tauriel to make haste in their descent. Their march from Ravenhill into Dale was accompanied by a flock of eagles, the majestic birds one by one diving into the sea of hostile beasts and plowing through the ranks of the enemies with relentless determination. The skies overhead darkened with specks of black, a myriad of swooping wings descending on the valley, sharp cries announcing the arrival of the allies Gandalf must have called for. Beorn the skin-changer was also among them, and in the shape of a giant bear he took on more orcs than anyone else.

This was the turning of the tide, Thranduil thought to himself with relief, defeat was now surely upon the enemy and his miserable servants of evil.

"My lord," Feren received Thranduil at the gate to the city, "we did as you ordered and I can assure you that Dale has been held securely."

"Very well," said Thranduil with an appreciative nod. He had expected no less from his commander.

"I do wish to depart to Mirkwood without delay. There are personal matters that require my immediate attention. Send a messenger to the palace to prepare for my return."

"Yes, of course my lord." Feren's dutiful response could not hide the fact that he was in a state of utter confusion as to what was going on, his eyes darting from Legolas to Tauriel and back to the king.

Purposefully ignoring his commander's obvious hunger for answers Thranduil strode swiftly ahead, Legolas and Tauriel by his side with Feren following closely behind.

"My son will take full charge in my absence and he shall have free rein to settle all matters concerning the Woodland Realm."

"As you wish my lord," he said, hardly managing to keep up with Thranduil's energetic strides, and even less with the quick succession of unforeseen turns the events suddenly seemed to take.

"There is one more thing though that might require your attention my lord before you leave," he said, his thin face a bit more strained than the usual.

"Yes?" Thranduil inquired whilst keeping up his brisk pace, hoping it might not be something to delay his departure for long.

"It is Faeldir. He has been gravely injured and there is little hope for him."

Thranduil stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes just for an instant, his heart suddenly submerged in a bucket of ice. Not Faeldir, not after he had fought so bravely by his side. There could be no doubt as to what his duty commanded him to do. He would not leave his young soldier to die. Not if he could help it.

"Where is he?" He turned to face Feren, who had come to a halt beside the king.

"He is with his brother. Apparently he has attempted to take on a troll all by himself. At least that is what a man named Odmund has reported. Amardir found him in one of the upper alleys and has not left his side ever since."

"Have him brought to my tent immediately and be quick about it. Every minute wasted is precious time lost."

"Yes, of course my lord, I will see to it." Feren bowed and strode away hastily, leaving Thranduil behind with Tauriel and Legolas.

"But what about your departure to Mirkwood?" Legolas inquired.

"It will have to wait," Thranduil said with a deep sigh, the only thing revealing how much this decision actually cost him. "A king's duty comes before a king's desire. This is just one of the many lessons you also will have to learn."

And with those words he turned away and made for the tent, not knowing for how much longer he would be able to put aside the insistent whispers of his aching heart.

To be continued…

* * *

 _Author's Notes: I hope you enjoyed this chapter with its little glimpses into the past and yeah I'm sorry about the cliffhanger with poor Faeldir. I promise you will find out in the next chapter. Obviously I decided not to send Legolas to Rivendell, because it would have meant that he was going to find a 10 year old Aragorn (BOTFA took place in 2941 TA, Aragorn was born in 2931 TA), who by that time was living as a foster child and going by the name of Estel (meaning 'hope' in Sindarin.) Also I wanted father and son the reconcile and not to part in this heartbreaking way we see it in BOTFA. Same goes for Tauriel, I did not like how she basically insulted Thranduil in BOTFA. I do not believe that her character would ever behave in such an insolent way._

 _Reviews, favs and follows make me really happy! Thank you folks :)_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 21^^!_


	22. A Fond Farewell

**A BIG thank you to all those lovely people who have reviewed the preceding chapter: ElectricSheep78, PageKat, Emperor DeLacus, thrndlwood, Shetan20, GHAPDY and Raider-K!**

 **Thank you also to those who have recently added this story to their favourites and/or are following it. I am very happy to see you aboard my Mirkwood adventure :D!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter it is: Thranduil has some business to attend to before he hopefully is able to follow his heart's call back to Mirkwood...**

* * *

 _Chapter 21 - A Fond Farewell_

"Ada, please wait up!"

Legolas called out to his father, the king's gait as determined as ever despite his heavy heart. But he was not going to let his father walk away again so easily from his chance of finding even the smallest bit of happiness.

"I know that you think you must stay, but please don't bury your reawakened spirit again beneath that excruciating self-denial of yours."

He had soon caught up with him, Tauriel on his heels, who listened intently to their unfolding conversation.

"You don't understand son," Thranduil said without looking at him. "I must do this. It is my duty as king. I always must serve my people first. And may I remind you that we are not speaking of a lifeless necklace for once, but of a young warrior who has not only gone through many hardships in his life, but who also was willing to give his life to save mine and Odmund's. He deserves that I do everything in my power to save him. Mine is a small sacrifice in comparison to his."

Legolas nodded slightly abashed, but still he would not give up so easily. If his father was not going to take his fate in his hands, then he would need to take it for him.

"I understand that you must always be a king first, but you could leave that heavily locked door of duty slightly ajar."

Thranduil stopped in his tracks to take a good look at his son. The earnest warmth in his eyes touched his heart. "I very much value your concern for me and I promise you that I intend to stay on the path I chose, but for now I have another favour to ask of you."

"Yes?" Legolas inquired, glad to be of help.

"I need you to fetch me some _athelas_. I fear that I will need it, even though Faeldir might not suffer from a poisonous wound."

"Yes, of course. I will not come back without it. Anything else that you wish for me to do?" Legolas looked into his father's eyes and the echo of his emotional upheaval on Ravenhill shone through their slightly dimmed crystal blue.

"No, that would be all. But be sure to make haste." Thranduil sought to focus on the task that lay ahead of him. He was a skilled healer, but he felt unusually weak today. It would not be easy for him to conjure up the strength he needed.

"I will." Legolas had already turned around when Thranduil called him back.

"One more thing: If you happen to come across Mithrandir you might want to bring him along with you." With an unmistakable sneer he added: "This should not be a too difficult task as the wizard seems to be always around, even when no one has been asking for him."

Legolas nodded obediently, slightly more at ease. "Do not trouble yourself father. I shall be back in no time with _athelas_ in my hand and Mithrandir by my side."

And with those words he took towards the old market and was soon gone from sight.

* * *

"May I walk with you my lord?" Tauriel asked tentatively, seeing that Thranduil had already resumed his brisk pace, and when he indicated his approval with a sharp nod, they both walked in silence, passing people that were searching for their loved ones, children crying and mothers weeping. The royal tent was only a few more corners away and the alleys through which they strode were littered with debris and corpses, a pitiful sight that left neither the king nor his head of guard unmoved.

"I know that this might not be the right moment, but I wanted to express once more my gratitude that you have shown me mercy," Tauriel finally broke the silence.

"Do not be too overconfident about having gotten away unscathed. I am not letting you off the hook quite yet," he shot Tauriel a stern glance and she lowered her gaze, her usual perky attitude still somewhat subdued.

"Yes, of course, I am fully aware of that. What I meant to say is that you have more kindness in your heart than what you are allowing the world to see."

"The world is an evil place and kindness is best not worn on one's sleeve if the enemy is not to think of one as weak."

"I was not talking about the enemy," she said and their eyes met for a brief moment, but before Thranduil could say anything else in response their conversation was cut short by a commotion heading their way from an alley to the left.

They both stopped in their tracks, Thranduil steeling himself for what would soon come into view. There was no mistaking that these were Feren and Amardir leading on a group of people carrying a body on a stretcher. The elven soldiers with their stern expression and solemn bearing made it appear more like a funeral train than a rescue mission. Solely Amardir did not even attempt to hide his agitation, urging the elves behind him on to make haste as they stepped over rubble and collapsed walls. The distinct shapes of Odmund and a woman with two small boys on either side followed them closely, a mixture of preoccupation and confusion on their faces as they hurried along, not quite knowing where this strange procession would lead them.

Thranduil greeted them with a nod, a quick glance behind Feren and Amardir telling him what he needed to know. And that was not good. He swallowed hard, the composed mask of his face only barely hiding the shock that befell him at the sight before his eyes. This was much worse than what he had thought. It truly seemed that Faeldir had been buried beneath a rock, his torso severely crushed under the immense weight, his right arm sticking out in a rather odd angle, a dagger still tightly clenched in his left hand. And his face, those gentle features of his, frozen in painful agony. He had to look away or else he feared that even his so well trained kingly countenance would cave in under the image of the wanton force, which had violated this body. A body that was after all not created to succumb to death.

In the long millennia of his lifetime he had seen many injured warriors, but it was always particularly painful to see a familiar face in such a state of dread. He had known Faeldir since the day he was born and despite the numerous dark moments he had always kept his high spirit and now it seemed that fate would send him to the halls of Mandos in the cruellest of ways. And all because Faeldir was too eager to fight a battle that the Elvenking had deemed necessary to reclaim a necklace, that he finally had found the courage to let go of. He would not be able to look Amardir in the eye knowing that he had failed to save his little brother. He already had their father's life on his conscience and as a consequence also their mother's, so failure was not an option.

With Thranduil now in the lead the whole group picked up their pace, more curious onlookers in the streets gradually joining their train. After all, if the Elvenking was rushing with such urgency, something of considerable importance must be about to take place, and when they had reached their destination, a veritable knot of people had gathered around the king's tent, gawking to get a good look at poor Faeldir and furtive voices whispering of trolls and their atrocious deeds.

Thranduil ordered him to be rushed inside, but halted everyone else with a graceful wave of his hand, the desperate gleam in Amardir's eyes not escaping his notice.

"I am sorry Amardir, but I must insist that you wait outside as well." He cut him off before he could say anything in response. "What you will see might frighten you."

"But I do not care. I am not afraid, I want to be with my brother."

"I know that, but I am asking you to let me attend to your brother alone. Do not make me order you to stay outside." The tone in his voice had gone dangerously low and Amardir knew that this was a line he rather not crossed. After all his brother's life was now in the king's hands, so it would not be wise to incur his wrath.

"Fine," he nodded grudgingly and stepped back.

* * *

And then the curtains closed behind the Elvenking and the young elf whose life hung by a mere thread, and silence fell on those that remained outside, their hearts caught in anxious hopefulness. For a moment Amardir stood facing the drapes wishing to be able to see through the heavy fabric, being separated from his brother causing him physical pain. He could not resist the temptation of reaching out for the burgundy folds, when suddenly Tauriel's hand shot forward and found his in a surprisingly firm grip.

"Don't," she said softly, but with determination. "You heard the king's reasoning. You must not disturb him now."

Amardir looked at her through narrowed eyes, assessing her silently.

"He will have his reasons for shutting everyone out. I assure you he is not doing this to hurt you." Tauriel fixed him with an imploring gaze and with a resigned sigh Amardir let go of the curtains and Tauriel quickly retreated her hand from his.

"But I do not understand. Why can I not be there? My brother needs me, now more than ever!" He frantically ruffled his hair, the sleek dark brown strands tangling around his fingers, but he could not care less about his messy appearance. This was a matter of life and death.

"I know that the king will do everything in his power to save him, you can rest assured of that."

"But what if that is not enough?" Amardir barely dared to utter those words, the thought of losing his little brother too terrible to behold.

"You must have faith. The hands of a king are the hands of a healer. You know that as well as I do. And Thranduil is amongst the most gifted ones."

Amardir nodded weakly, still not convinced that his brother would come out of this predicament alive, when suddenly muffled rummaging noises followed by a stifled moan were heard from inside. Amardir's eyes widened in alarm and he drew a sharp breath, clenching his fists to refrain himself from storming inside and wresting his brother from what he believed to be his deathbed.

"It is fine, no reason to be alarmed." Tauriel raised her hand in an appeasing gesture as she listened intently to the sounds from beyond the drapes that had lowered to a quiet shuffling and when she looked back at Amardir there was a veil of unshed tears blurring his grey eyes and his utter despair left her helpless.

"I made a promise," he began, his voice low and shaky, "a promise to our mother. And I failed." He rubbed his forehead with both hands, trying to keep himself from breaking down in front of Tauriel. "I though that I could succeed at both, protecting my brother and serving the king, but that was an illusion." He shook his head in exasperation.

"There is no need to torture yourself with those self-accusations. I know that you deeply care for your brother and that you are a loyal servant to the king. But you know as well as I do that the fate of the ones we love is not in our hands."

There was a sad smile on Tauriel's face and Amardir only nodded silently, realising with shame that he was not the only one to bemoan a loss.

The near unbearable tension was broken by a sudden influx of voices and soon the shapes of Gandalf and Legolas came into sight, the wizard's cloak billowing behind him in dusty ripples of grey, his weathered face more wrinkled than ever in concentration and Legolas beside him clutching a bunch of plain flowers in his hand. Legolas wordlessly proceeded to pull the curtains apart for the wizard, not without having handed him the flowers, and then closed the drapes behind him with a sigh that was both of concern and relief.

Amardir had observed the scene quietly, but now he could not contain himself any longer and his eyes went from Legolas to Tauriel.

"Why does _he_ get to go in and I have to wait outside?" Anger and frustration were seething beneath Amardir's tattered remains of his nearly gone composure.

"He is a wizard," Tauriel explained quietly. "If the king wishes someone by his side in this difficult hour then it would surely be him."

Legolas nodded in approval. "To be honest, I am concerned about my father's strength. When I found him on Ravenhill he was in a state of unrest like I have not seen him before. It seemed that the dragon fire of old was burning him from inside out and might have even finally claimed victory over him." He looked at Tauriel with dread in his eyes. "He was nearly gone when I came to him."

This was too much for Amardir and he snapped.

"You are concerned about your father's strength?" He talked himself into a rage. "And what about my brother? What about his strength? What about his life? Does that not concern you?"

The vein in Amardir's neck stood out dangerously, his usually pale cheeks reddened with agitation, a mad fury in his eyes.

"That is what I worry about, Amardir." Legolas sought to keep his voice polite. "I think you do not understand that my father's strength is the only hope your brother has."

"Yes, of course," Amardir muttered apologetically as if he had been slapped in the face, "I am sorry, but you must forgive me, the worry about my brother's life has made me unreasonable."

And without another word he turned away and began pacing back and forth in front of the tent, hoping to keep his mind from going insane.

* * *

Time seemed to have forgotten its busy rush as everyone waited, all of them bound in idleness, the torches around the royal tent keeping the darkness of night at bay with a small circle of hope. Odmund had even set up a campfire, around which his wife and the children had finally fallen asleep, snuggled up against each other braving the cold, but to Odmund no sleep would come that night. When he could not stand the inactivity any longer he got up to stretch his legs and tentatively approached Amardir, who was staring up into the night sky and seemed to take no notice of Odmund's presence. They stood for a while silently beside each other and when Odmund's eyes also found the starlit blanket that spanned above them he said: "It's hard to believe that after such disaster there is still such beauty left in this world."

"There will always be beauty but it remains forever empty if we do not have someone to share it with."

Odmund sighed heavily and then Amardir turned towards him and said: "I have heard about your missing daughter and I do hope that she will be found alive."

"Your king was very kind in offering his help but I am afraid that he has more confidence than what I can muster," Odmund said sadly and looking up to Amardir he added "I owe your brother my life and since I don't know if I will ever be able to thank him I wanted to let you know that I am forever in his debt and if there is anything I can do to repay him, I will."

He bowed deeply, hoping to have found the right words. After all, dealings with elves was not something he was particularly apt at.

"You are a good man Odmund and my brother did well in saving you. He would not want you to feel indebted to him. He only did what he deemed the right thing to do, without possibly thinking too much about the consequences. He was always the reckless one of us brothers." After a moment of silence he quickly added "Well he still _is_."

Odmund only nodded and then both went back to their mutual silence.

When the early morning light began to spill over the horizon like molten gold and silence was the only thing heard from inside, Amardir had nearly lost all hope. His nervous pacing had come to a halt long ago and turned from a gloomy stare into the flickering flames to a resigned state of hopelessness.

Suddenly the curtains were pulled aside and all eyes turned in anxious anticipation to the tall figure emerging. Thranduil had changed into his fitted robe of dark grey, an elegant cloak of the finest silk cascading from his shoulders like glittering starlight and the silver circlet on his sleek waves of platinum catching the first timid rays of sunshine. Despite his flawless appearance there was a rather strained look on his face, the familiar crease on his forehead deeper than the usual.

His eyes searched for Amardir, who had anxiously edged closer, his hands pressed together, trying to relieve the unbearable tension in his chest. But Thranduil's gaze was impenetrable as always and when he spoke his words were few and chosen with great care.

"Faeldir will live, but his path to convalescence will be a long and difficult one."

Audible sighs of relief made their way from one mouth to another as the tension finally broke and the weight of the entire Lonely Mountain seemed to fall off Amardir's shoulders. He did not bother to stop the tears of joy that ran down his cheeks and he barely knew how to put his gratitude into words, so he only managed a mumbled:

"Thank you, thank you so much."

Thranduil acknowledged his gratefulness with the ghost of a smile. He pulled the cloak tighter around his shoulders, the early morning chill beginning to creep into his bones. After all, the process of halting death meant giving from his own life and it always cost him to recover from it; today more than ever.

His voice was remote and strained. "And I do not know if he will ever be completely healed. Only time can tell and you will need to be patient."

"Yes, of course." Amardir nodded dutifully and then the question he had been burning to ask broke through: "May I go and see my brother now, please?"

"Yes, you may, but be sure not to agitate him when he wakes. He is now in a deep slumber to help heal his wounds and it might not be in several days that he will open his eyes."

"I do not mind the waiting, as long as I can be by his side," Amardir was quick to respond, the joy to be reunited with his brother evident in his eyes, a renewed spark of life in their solemn grey.

"Faeldir can count himself lucky to have such a devoted brother," Thranduil said with amusement as he allowed Amardir to pass.

But Amardir most likely missed the king's praise as he stormed into the tent like his life depended on it, the curtains closing with a noisy rustle behind him.

"I am sorry, but everyone else will have to wait their turn," Thranduil said facing the small crowd. "This also includes you two." He pointed at Tauriel and Legolas, who seemed ready to follow Amardir into the tent. "Give him some time alone with his brother, he has earned it."

Legolas could not help but notice his father's pallid face and the way his hands were holding on to the cloak, trying to conceal the tremors in his fingers beneath the abundant fabric.

"And you have earned yourself a rest, Ada. You must not overexert yourself, especially if you plan on starting back to Mirkwood soon."

He shot Tauriel a pleading look and she nodded in agreement.

"Your son is right my lord. What you did is no small thing," Tauriel chimed in without hesitation.

"My work here is not quite done, I am afraid," Thranduil said with a meaningful glance in the direction of Odmund, who seemed to be anxiously awaiting his turn to speak to the king. He beckoned him to step closer, Odmund's wife and children keeping a save distance to this strangely intimidating king.

"I am terribly sorry to bother you, my lord," the farrier said in between bows, his hair more unkempt than ever after this sleepless night, "but could I borrow a moment of your precious time?"

"You may not only borrow it, but I might even be inclined to just give it to you." Thranduil greeted him with a small nod, the obnoxious drumming in his temples getting gradually harder to ignore. "But if you are to inquire about your daughter's whereabouts, I am afraid that my men have not yet found a lead."

"No, it is not about my daughter, although I very much would like to hold her in my arms again," Odmund swallowed trying to keep his calm. "It is about Faeldir. I am very glad, that he will make it through alive. He came to my rescue, you know, when everyone else had fled from the troll." Drops of sweat began to form on his forehead at the mere thought of what this horrible creature might have done to him. "His valour gave me the courage to fight back and I would not be standing here in front of you, if it hadn't been for him. I owe him my life and I already have offered his brother to repay him for his deed, but he would not hear of it." He paused to organise the words in his head. "The only thing of value left in my possession is Silvermane and I would be honoured if you would accept her as my gift." Bowing as low as his belly allowed it, he waited for the Elvenking's response.

For a moment Thranduil considered his offer and knowing how much this horse meant to Odmund, this was a most generous gift. A gift he surely would have refused, if he hadn't been in dire need of a new mount. But if he wanted to get back to the palace without delay, the mare would be the perfect choice.

He folded his hands in front of his lap, hoping that the tight grip he forced on them might finally do away with the lingering tremble, and said: "I shall gladly accept your offer as I wish to depart to Mirkwood before the day's light is spent."

"Yes, of course." There was a sudden dryness in Odmund's throat draining his voice.

"I know that Silvermane is of utmost personal value to you and I shall set her free to return to you once her duty is done," Thranduil said upon seeing the look of distress on Odmund's face.

"Thank you, that is very generous of you. And I assure you that you will not be disappointed. She is the swiftest horse in all of Dale and you will not find a more loyal companion."

His chest swelled with pride and a brief smile lighted up his weary face, but then it came to him that there could only be one reason why the king would need a horse. "I am sorry to ask, but your elk, is it—?"

Thranduil nodded. "It sadly was killed in battle." A shadow flickered over the Elvenking's face as he was reminded of the painful loss, another innocent victim of the enemies' crude violence.

"I am very sorry to hear that." Odmund lowered his head. "I have to admit I've grown quite fond of it during the short time it was entrusted to my care," he elaborated, "it seemed to possess a remarkable understanding of things which I have not seen in another animal before."

"It was very special indeed." But Thranduil sought to settle matters now quickly. "Have Silvermane saddled up and brought to my quarters as swiftly as you can."

"Yes, of course my lord. I will see to it without delay." And with another bow Odmund took his leave to head for the stables.

* * *

A sorrowful task lay now ahead of the Elvenking and his strides took him swiftly through the narrow alleyways towards the city gate. The morning hours were advancing fast and his mind drifted more than once ahead towards the path that hopefully would lead him home soon and a warm feeling spread in his chest as he saw the palace doors swing open, but his thoughts did not get to pass through them as his eyes were drawn to the pitiful scene before him.

Not far from the entrance to the city he found what he had been looking for. A sight that stirred up a mixture of anger and sadness inside him. In a puddle of frozen blood lay the lifeless shape of his elk, the majestic antlers a reminder of its impressive size. No one apparently had dared to touch or let alone move the king's animal. It lay where it had collapsed, still pierced by the enemies' arrows.

Without hesitation the Elvenking knelt down beside his mount that had served him loyally until fate in its unfathomable cruelty had decided to deprive it of its well earned placid days in the familiar groves of its homeland. Thranduil gazed silently at the limp form, no breath heaving its chest and only emptiness staring at him from brown eyes that had always carried within them the light of humble compassion. And there was a heaviness in the Elvenking's heart as he motioned to bid him farewell.

He sat still like a statue, enveloped in his silvery cloak, his face solemn and his eyes not heeding the inquisitive gapes of some curious onlookers that had stopped in their tracks to stare at this strange sight, for his thoughts were solely with his departed friend. He gently laid his hands on the elk's head in between the wide antlers and began passing them in firm strokes along the neck and then its flanks, the way he knew it most enjoyed it, over dried up blood that clotted the matted fur, diligently removing one by one the broken arrowheads that had remained inside the flesh. With nimble fingers he unclasped the saddle and untied the brindle around the head, relieving the mortal remains of all unnecessary burden. All this he did with great care as if he would not want to inflict any unnecessary pain on the poor creature. Fondly he remembered the days when it was but a young calf, cantering leisurely in the clearings of the forest. He had watched it grow until it had been strong enough to carry its master. Since then it had been his steady companion to battles but also countless hunts in his woods, and yes: it had finally brought Anna to his palace and into his life. An affectionate smile played around his lips as he thought of her small hands in his and he suddenly wished for nothing more than her tender touch. Sensing that the no longer calm sea of his emotions might overcome him at any moment if he lowered the guard around his heart just one more inch, he forced his thoughts back to the present and the last goodbye that lay now inevitably before him.

He brought his hands to a rest again on the animal's forehead, slowly closing its eyes and from laden clouds a flurry of snowflakes began their dance around them, settling like delicate stars on the brown fur and Thranduil's silvery hair.

Everyone around them seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation.

And then the Elvenking sang, first a soft humming like a gentle whisper in the wind, then melodic words in a strange language, his otherworldly voice rising to a song of ethereal beauty, the warm baritone of his spreading like liquid sunlight through the frost. An exquisite tapestry woven out of melancholy and wisdom hung in the winter air, filling the hearts of everyone with a golden warmth. Even though they might not comprehend the words, they understood. It was a brief glimpse beyond the confines that held the human soul captive. In wordless wonder they marvelled at the peacefulness of this scene, deeply moved by the strong bond that existed in between the Elvenking and this fallen creature, which most humans would only see as a lifeless carcass that would all too soon become subject to decay. The haunting melody rose and fell, a thin veil floating amidst the ever denser flurry of white, serene and peaceful until it ebbed away, the delicate threads of his words lingering on in the hearts of those that listened.

" _Navaer, mellon_!" The final words of his lament were spoken like a tender whisper and when Thranduil retreated his hands from the animal the remote glow surrounding it was buried beneath the soft blanket of white from the heavens above.

Nothing more could be said after this.

Except that it would not be the last farewell of the day.

More burials were in order as everyone in Dale and the Mountain mourned their dead. It was a farewell of great magnificence when the King under the Mountain and his nephews were laid to rest in all their dwarvish splendour and besides the Elves also Gandalf, Bilbo and Bard came to pay them their last respects. After all they had been allies in the end and had given their lives to defend the Mountain against the darkness that had reached out for it with its malevolent hands. The Arkenstone was returned to its rightful owner and Thranduil laid Orcrist, the elven sword that had been taken from Thorin in captivity, upon his tomb and it is said to have gleamed in the dark if ever foes were to approach the mountain.

* * *

When the daylight began to dwindle Thranduil was finally on his way back to the tent, his mind set on his imminent departure. He had done all he could for Faeldir, and Mithrandir had offered himself to keep Amardir company and remain by their side until Faeldir was in a state stable enough for another healer to take over. Despite his usual annoyance with the wizard Thranduil was for once grateful to have a weight taken off his shoulders and if he was quite honest with himself, without Mithrandir's help he might not have been able to conjure up all the magic needed to wrest Faeldir from the cold claws of death. He also had left Legolas with clear instructions as to how to proceed in whatever possible scenarios that might unfold and made him promise more than once to report back to him if anything unusual were to occur. It would take him a while to get used to delegate some of his responsibilities, after all he did not intend to just slip off his kingly duties like a discarded glove, but he would make a point in hearing his son out and keeping him closer in both matters political and personal. After the recent revelations it was clear that this was only for both their good. It would help boost his son's confidence and allow himself to gain a few more personal liberties beyond the confines he had laid on himself for far too long. In all this Thranduil had managed to avoid his thoughts from straying back to the necklace, but it seemed that he would not leave the Mountain empty handed after all.

"Ahem—,"

Someone behind him nervously cleared his throat and sure enough, when Thranduil stopped in his tracks to turn around, it was Bilbo who seemed to be rather out of breath in his attempt to catch up with the Elvenking. Slightly nervous and a bit shaky as always in his presence he bowed low and waited for Thranduil to open the conversation.

"Yes, Master Baggins?"

Thranduil greeted him with the same mixture of benevolence and condescendence that did not really help Bilbo in finding his poise, no matter if he had just fought in a battle or not.

"I am very sorry to disturb you, great Elvenking, but there is something I would like you to have, you know, before you go back and we might never meet again," he poured out, hoping not to lose his thread as well as his courage with Thranduil's penetrating gaze lingering on him. He rummaged in his deep pockets and pulled out a beautiful necklace of pearls, which he placed on his open hands.

"This is something I have received from Dain and I am far from being an expert in jewellery, but it seems quite nice to me. Well, after all I'm just a modest hobbit and to be honest, what would I do with all those riches in the Shire? Not that I am returning with nothing, no that is not it, but I know of a certain lady in your palace that might look much better wearing this necklace than I ever could. Would you give it to her as a gift from me please? She offered me her hospitality and I would very much like to show her my gratitude."

The necklace gleamed in its pearlescent beauty as he held it aloft in front of the Elvenking. Thranduil raised his eyebrows in surprise, his eyes travelling from Bilbo to the necklace and then resting on the hobbit's face with appreciation.

"You never cease to amaze me Master Baggins. Not only is your generosity far greater than what many others might boast themselves of possessing, but your thoughtfulness concerning my dear guest speaks very highly of you. I am sure she will be very fond of this most lovely token of friendship."

He took the necklace, the smooth surface gliding through his slender fingers and although it might not quite compare to the outstanding beauty of the White Gems of Lasgalen, the thought of seeing the delicate line of silvery white orbs slung around the curve of her neck elicited a smile of anticipation from Thranduil.

"I thank you very much for this beautiful gift." And with those words he slid it into the inner pocket of his robe and addressed Bilbo with a warmth in his voice rarely heard from the proud Elvenking.

"I do hope that we shall meet again."

"So do I," Bilbo bowed deeply in response, his hands automatically proceeding to flatten his ever uncooperative waistcoat.

"You are very welcome in my halls any time you wish to pass by and I assure you that there is no need for you to remain invisible."

When Bilbo looked up again he could feel the familiar gaze of the Elvenking staring right through him, knowing that Thranduil might long have guessed what he had so much hoped to conceal from him. An embarrassed smile spread on the face of the hobbit.

"Well, to be honest, I do very much long to be back again in my armchair, a crackling fire by my side and a good book in my hand, but if ever the adventurous side of mine takes over again I might consider your offer."

"I hope you will."

And with a polite nod Thranduil turned away and resumed his pace, his hand resting on the pocket where the pearls were securely nestled, the pull towards home now getting stronger by the minute.

* * *

He hurried towards his tent and saw to his satisfaction that the crowd around it had finally dissipated and Silvermane had been already tethered outside, all saddled up and munching away with relish on a bale of hay while she awaited the arrival of her new master. He greeted her with a friendly rub on the forehead, her dark brown eyes lingering curiously on the Elvenking.

"You will have to be swift and stout-hearted as the path that lies ahead of us is unfamiliar to you. But you need not fear, I will not let any harm come to you."

Silvermane neighed in approval and her silvery crest flowed elegantly around her neck. Odmund had for sure not exaggerated when he had praised Silvermane's qualities, Thranduil thought to himself with satisfaction when the curtains of his tent were pulled apart for him to enter.

With a wave of his hand he beckoned his servants to leave, making it very clear that he wished not to be disturbed as he longed for a moment to himself. Faeldir had been moved to an adjacent tent and he was truly grateful for the recovered privacy. He strode over to the small table and reached for the decanter to serve himself a goblet of wine and with an exhausted sigh he took a seat on his chair, his silvery cloak sliding off his shoulders and then he allowed the sweetness of the Dorwinion to spread through his veins. And when he leaned his head against the backrest and closed his eyes he suddenly realised how spent he felt. Since before the battle he had not given himself any rest and although as an elf he was much more resilient to the strains of war or life in general, all the turmoils of these past days eventually did take a toll on him. With another long sip he emptied the goblet and placed it on the table to allow himself just one more moment of peacefulness before he would tread on the new path he had chosen for him. Warmth flowed through his body and he smiled inwardly at what he was about to do. Just one more moment, he told himself, enjoying the silence that enveloped him, just one.

A sudden draft of cold air rose him from his drowsy state and when he opened his eyes he realised in shock that the early morning light was prominently peeking through the open curtains. He rose from his seat only to see the dutiful figure of Feren lingering at the entrance.

"My lord, I am very sorry to disturb you, but I come with urgent tidings." He apologised with a tight-lipped smile.

"Why did you not come earlier if it is as urgent as you say?" Thranduil shot him an angry glare while he straightened his robe and sought to clear his head of the remnants of sleep.

"I have been told that you wished not to be disturbed," Feren said with a thin voice.

A drawn-out sigh escaped Thranduil when he remembered the orders he himself had given. He pinched the bridge of his nose and bade Feren to proceed: "Let me hear then what you have to say."

"I come with tidings both glad and — not so joyous."

The annoyed look on Thranduil's face made him pour out the words quickly. "Our men might have finally found a lead to Odmund's daughter Edda." He paused, waiting for the king's reaction.

"That shall please Odmund greatly. Make sure you let him know without delay."

"Yes, of course," Feren retorted with a dutiful nod.

"And now for the _not so joyous_ part, as you like to call it. What other tidings do you bring?" Despite his effort to remain calm, a bad feeling started to pool in Thranduil's stomach.

"We have received word from the palace," Feren began, shifting uncomfortably.

"And?" Thranduil raised his eyebrows in growing impatience. "Well, don't stop now."

"It is about your guest. She has gone missing," Feren said through gritted teeth.

"Missing you say? Meaning she cannot be found?" Thranduil pressed for more details, his fingers closing around the backrest of his chair.

"Meaning she has been seen leaving the palace. It seems that when the messenger arrived to inform about your return, she must have used the moment of distraction to her advantage and sneaked past the guards." Feren's body was taut as a bowstring, his eyes searching for an innocuous spot, preferably right behind Thranduil's shoulder.

But there was no outbreak of wrath, Thranduil only looked at him quietly, the words slowly sinking in. Under different circumstances he might have considered taking out his anger on the message-bearer, but after all he only had himself to blame. How in Eru's name could he have allowed himself to doze off like that? But it was no use to lament, he needed to act fast now that she was out in the unknown. He nodded absentmindedly as the possible scenarios unfolded in his head and then he began pacing back and forth, hands crossed behind his back.

"This means she has been gone for enough time to get herself into serious trouble. I must find her before trouble inevitably will find her."

He stopped in his tracks to look at Feren, who was still rooted to the spot and possibly might have even forgotten to breathe.

"Well, don't just stand there! The lead to Odmund's daughter is not going to pursue itself." He motioned him to leave with a determined wave of his hand. "And in my absence you will report to my son regarding any new developments."

"Yes, of course," Feren bowed and slipped through the opening in the curtains, silently blessing the Valar for having gotten away without a reprimand.

But the king had other concerns now weighing on his mind. He gave a quick glance around, scanning the tent for what he needed to take along, and his eyes fell on the armour that had been already polished and put back on the stand, waiting for its next mission. He pondered for a moment, but then decided against it, after all he was not expecting to head into a battle and he preferred his lightweight robe. He only reached for his scabbard and the swords as well as his thick cloak and the leftover remains of _athelas,_ which he stored safely in the pockets of his robe. He dearly hoped that he would not need it, but a dark foreboding told him otherwise.

 ** _Thranduil's Lament_**

 _May your spirit return_

 _to the glade you were born,_

 _in the heart of the forest_

 _beneath shadows of old._

 _Under branches you sleep_

 _where the secret is kept,_

 _in the heart of the forest_

 _and its wintry embrace._

 _From the voice of the trees_

 _a new song shall arise,_

 _in the heart of the forest_

 _to bring peace to your soul._

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _athelas_ \- kingsfoil (a medicinal herb)

 _navaer_ \- farewell

 _mellon_ \- friend

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Being no expert in Sindarin I can only present you here with a very rudimentary translation of Thranduil's lament. Nevertheless I hope you enjoy it. I am very fond of the idea that Thranduil shares a special bond with the animals of his forest, especially his elk. If you are into music, my husband composed a song based on this poem called _Thranduil's Lament_. (This was his christmas gift for me ;)) You can find the link to the youtube video on my profile!**

 **I'm sorry for having made Amardir suffer so much in this chapter, but I wanted to show how much he cares for his brother. I decided to show Faeldir's healing only indirectly, concentrating on those who have to wait outside, not being able to do anything about it, which is really difficult and can drive one almost insane. And of course poor Thranduil is not giving himself a break and then he pays the price for it.**

 **But *yay* he is now heading back to Mirkwood for good - spiders beware! - , so stay tuned for chapter 22 :D!**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**


	23. Tears of a King

**A BIG thank you to all those wonderful people, who have reviewed the preceding chapter: LaBellios, Emperor DeLacus, thrndlwood and a Guest! And also thank you to those who have favourited and/or followed this story! You make me very happy :D!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter where Thranduil finally can follow his heart's call to Mirkwood. But will he find Anna on time?**

* * *

 _Chapter 22 - Tears of a King_

The skies were a washed out blue with the smell of upcoming snowfall in the air and a thin layer of frost donned the ruins of Dale a fleeting veil of serenity when Thranduil pushed the curtains aside to step out into the clear winter morning. He took a deep breath and the crisp air greeted him with a reviving freshness that was like a promise of new life in the barren wasteland. His heavy cloak cascaded elegantly from his shoulders, nearly hiding the grey robe beneath from view. His bejewelled fingers rested languidly on the hilts of his swords, which were sheathed in their scabbards on either side of his hips, and the silver circlet crowned the sleek perfection of his hair. His gaze was drawn from the endless skies above to Silvermane, who pawed the ground, raising clouds of icy crystals up in the air. Delicate wisps of smoke curled up from her nostrils as she welcomed her rider. She had been given a saddle and brindle in the lightest grey, a perfect match for her silvery mane and the saddle-bags had been diligently filled with provisions to last him for several days. He was glad that at this early hour the area outside the tent was deserted save for the guards as he wished to depart quietly and undisturbed. With a friendly ruffle he greeted the horse and then he reached for the reins, mounted Silvermane in one graceful swing and was on his way, leaving behind the city and the Mountain.

He began his journey with a rare but comfortable lightness in his heart. Having been able to reconcile with his son filled him with a warmth he seemed to have lost centuries ago and he was more than glad to have torn down the ice that had separated them for far too long. And although a disciplinary talk with Tauriel would be in order once she returned to Mirkwood with Legolas, he felt decidedly relieved to have his head of guard back in his service. Despite her hot-headedness she was undoubtedly one of the most loyal additions to his court and her friendship with his son was a bond not to be underestimated.

His path led him from Dale back to the Long Lake, where the signs of destruction were only haphazardly hidden beneath some lonely patches of snow. Some Men and Elves had stayed behind to save what they could and to rebuild what was possible before the frost would render all labour futile. He passed them in a steady gallop and soon the restless surface of the lake was but a dolefully murmuring elegy behind him. Grey and bleak was the path that lay ahead, dried up lichen crawling over scattered rocks and windswept hassocks strewn erratically in between. The nascent gusts of winter wind tore at his cloak and the silken strands of his hair. And before long the last remnants of blue above were obscured by heavy clouds and icy snowflakes shrouded horse and rider in a tireless dance of flurries as the Elvenking sped on, a tall figure in ghostly white.

He had not realised how much he had longed for the welcoming embrace of his forest until he saw the familiar borders dawning vaguely on the horizon, the sea of grey and brown clothed in its wintry raiment stretching out in the distance. Not a living soul crossed their path and the few wild beasts roaming the lands for what meagre prey they might find maintained a respectful distance. Some valiant ones craned their furry necks to get a glimpse of the Elvenking rushing past them only to quickly return to their laborious task of securing for themselves a rather frugal meal before they might end up on the dinner plate of those bolder predators that hunted under the veil of darkness. Thranduil urged Silvermane on to break into a full gallop, wishing to turn his back on those desolate lands before nightfall.

* * *

Branches, roots and twigs all welcomed their king, a rustling of voices rushing through the tall pillars, the spindly dome above him humming softly in a polyphonic symphony. They spoke to him of a human that roamed the pathways and the unrest this intrusion had brought into the forest, stirring up an evil malice that had daringly crept closer in the absence of its king, the prospect of easy prey luring the foes of darkness ever deeper into the woods.

Thranduil listened intently and what he heard did nothing to appease his worries, for all he knew she might be running directly into the spider's hairy arms. He needed to make haste if he was going to find her before they did. Silvermane had fallen into a somewhat reluctant trot, the gloominess of these woods not at all familiar to her, but his words brought her comfort and she picked up her pace again, the winding path in between overgrown stems and greyish thickets leading them steadily closer towards the heart of the forest.

They rode on all night and only when the faintest grey of morning broke timidly through the branches he offered Silvermane a much needed rest, but he himself could not find any.

He watched her for a moment as she munched on what little moss there was in between gnarled roots and rotten leaves and then his hand wandered towards the pocket of his robe and a thrill of anticipation rushed through him when he felt the outline of the necklace beneath his fingers. He leaned against the tree beside Silvermane and pulled the necklace out. The neatly rounded pearls shone pale white like small moons in the light of early dawn and he took great pleasure in running the smooth orbs through his fingers. They were nowhere near the exquisit splendour of the white gems of starlight, but there was undeniable beauty in their simplicity and gazing at them in his hands his thoughts travelled back to the moment when his spirit had set out to visit Anna in the Queen's refuge. The sadness in her eyes made his heart ache and guilt claw at his heart. Guilt because of the emotional turmoil he had caused her and the possible danger she was now headed into. After all it had been him who had brought her into his palace and his life. She had not asked for it. As a matter of fact, she had not really had any choice at all, still she had come with him anyway. With a sigh he tore his eyes away from the jewellery in his hands and looked up into the net of twigs and branches that fanned out above him, their familiar creaking and rustling reminding him tauntingly of the task he had given himself: to look after her until the time would come for them both to take a decision one way or another. A promise he had intended to keep only for it to be forsaken when the prospect of sparkly jewels had dawned on the horizon.

He knew that he had a weakness for white gems. A weakness that had slowly taken on the shape of an obsession, even more so after the passing of his wife. He remembered being hypnotized by their iridescent sparkle since the days of his youth in Doriath. There was something in those jewels that captured him in a downright magical way. They seemed to contain the essence of everything he had ever longed for, flawless, pristine and a perfect mirror of the starlight he so much adored. And they were everlasting in their eternal beauty. Nothing could dim their brightness. As an elf he was blessed with immortality, but that did not mean that he or the ones he loved could not be subject to death and even if he lasted on, it was expected of him to follow the call of his kin across the sea and depart to Valinor. Something he felt no desire for.

The forest of _Eryn Galen_ was where his heart had taken root and if it could ever be restored to its former beauty he would gladly dwell beneath its sweeping branches and walk its sunlit glades until he as guardian of the forest would fade into a mere shadow of his former self and become the spirit of the forest itself, blossoming in every new bud and fresh leaf. In tender saplings and deepest roots he would reside, humbly embracing his destiny that tied him to Arda until the end of all days. He had pondered this choice for ages and it had all but tormented his heart as it required a sacrifice either way. Refusing to depart to the Undying Lands meant that he would shut the path to his wife forever, but if he chose to sail West it would uproot his very existence and he would never be whole again, not even in the Blessed Realm. He would amble the white shores of Aman forever looking east beyond the sea wishing for his soul to linger beneath the shadows of his beloved trees.

A soft nudge against his shoulder rose him from his thoughts and when he saw Silvermane's brown eyes staring questioningly at him he quickly closed his hand around the necklace and slid it back into the pocket. He looked around and the morning had already advanced, the feeble rays of daylight peeking through the wintry canopy above.

"You are right," he said, ruffling Silvermane's crest. "We must not tarry any longer. There is still much that lies ahead of us."

* * *

Deeper they went into the woods, a greyish gloom lingering on as the hours melted into each other. The forest river's faint murmuring accompanied Silvermane's steady plodding like a quiet song and Thranduil's mind wandered ahead restlessly, hoping that he would find her before the sinister forces would lure her into their treacherous webs. Tauriel had been right after all with her suspicion that the spiders had grown bolder and more daring still, venturing into areas of Mirkwood that had been considered safe until not so long ago. His beginning uneasiness only grew heavier until he could not keep the insistent voice in his heart quiet anymore. If she was indeed headed into danger there was only one way he could help her from afar. He needed to make sure that she would be able to fend for herself until he was by her side. Even if she was unaware of it, the sword she carried was not just like any elvish blade. It was the Queen's sword, fashioned to match his own, slightly smaller and more delicate, but as deadly as its larger companions. And it carried a secret within its beautiful curves of silver, allowing the king to let his magic flow into the blade and bestowing powers far beyond their skills upon the one wielding it. But alas there was a downside to this marvellous ability. The sword had been kept sealed away for centuries, since Thranduil could not bear to look at it after his wife's death, reminding him every day of how, despite its magic, it had not been able to prevent her from falling into the enemies' hands. And he had refused ever since to renew the spell, having been convinced that it had simply not been good enough. But now it was all the hope he had left.

"Silvermane I need you to follow your path without fear and hesitation while I send my spirit ahead to search for her. Allow your hooves to take you where my light will lead you."

Silvermane reared her ears as she listened to the king's words and then Thranduil loosened the reins, allowing her to canter at her leisure while he sent his thoughts inwards and raised one hand to his heart, the familiar warmth spreading from deep within and filling every vein with liquid light. Enveloped by delicate strings of silvery white his _fae_ floated like an iridescent orb up into the air, passing underbrushes and countless branches in its search for her.

And it did not take him long to find her, a lonely wanderer, hopelessly lost in this ample forest and struggling to find the path that would lead her to its king. Like a small beacon of hope he guided her to a nearby clearing, receiving her in its midst as white stag, the grey pillars around him bathed in heavenly light. When he saw her approaching like a timid fawn, her pitiful appearance filled him with sorrow, but he waited silently. Only very slowly she seemed to work up the courage to step closer, but still she did not dare to touch him, her eyes silently drinking in his celestial appearance like someone who was dying of thirst. But then the longing in his chest pulled him towards her and he laid his head on her shoulder, and when she finally slung her arms around his neck and wept into his soft fur, his spirit embraced her own, letting the light that lived within him soothe her pain, so she might find the strength to face whatever still lay before her. Her caress and her words filled his heart with joy and sadness alike. How much he wished that he could hold her in his embrace rather than have his spirit animal take his stead! Tears stood in his eyes and when a single one fell onto her sword it was all it took to seal the spell. For an instant the metal gleamed bright like having been dipped in moonlight and her puzzled look met his determined gaze, tying the magical bond in between them. He dearly hoped that it might be strong enough, as it was only cast by his spirit animal and to gain its full power the magic needed the unity of body and soul, but it was the best he could give her. And as much as he wished to linger in this intimate moment he knew that he had to pull away if he was going to provide the help she begged him for. So he turned away, reluctantly leaving her behind in the dim twilight as his spirit found its way back.

Excitement and dread mingled in his heart after this encounter and he increased their pace throughout the day, only stopping when Silvermane was in dire need of rest. But the shadows of foreboding would not allow him any peace of mind. He could feel the darkness creeping through the woods like a thick cloud of doom, the malice preparing to strike once it had drawn her close enough. Silvermane was nearly stretched to the limit after they had ridden on all night, bushes and twigs, roots and branches flitting past them like a hazy blur, making way for their king and allowing the horse to pass through the parting vegetation with ease. So fast they sped on that the icy breeze ruffled his cloak like a grey banner, the windswept strands of his hair flowing behind him in golden waves. Silvermane's breath filled the air with dainty puffs of smoke, her flanks glistening with a sheen layer of sweat beneath the pale moonlight that trickled through the branches, casting ghostly shadows on horse and rider. Thranduil guided them through the darkest hours following only the compass of his heart, and the hooves' steady cantering led them past slender birches, shimmering like ancient sentinels and over crunching leaves and frozen patches of mud. The pathways they had long abandoned and they were now cutting straight through the woods heading north west on the shortest route, the place where he could feel her presence growing stronger by the minute.

* * *

When the blackness of night gave way to a dim grey morning veiled in mist he knew that they were getting close. Silvermane's muscles flexed beneath him with depleting strength, so he allowed her another short rest before they would make for what he hoped to be the final spurt. He looked around and the dense fog surrounding them forebode nothing good for it most likely accompanied the stealthy onset of something evil, shrouding its skulking approach from view. But his eyes would not be so easily deceived. He could see right through this masquerade and one look told him that this was not any product of nature itself. He would head straight to where he suspected that the beasts had made their lair, where the fog was at its densest. That is where they would also be leading her and her human eyes had no shield against their deception, making her an easy victim. They could not tarry any longer, so he spoke to Silvermane in a beseeching voice: "Be strong and brave as we are heading towards the darkness that seeks to invade my forest. You must not let yourself be intimidated by its malicious doings. None will dare attack us as those beasts fear my powers. May your pace be light and swift and may confidence lead you through the blinding mist."

He stroked her gently on the forehead, filling her body with renewed strength and her dark brown eyes gleamed with determination. She pawed the ground impatiently as if she was telling him to hurry already.

They delved into the greyish clouds gushing out in between branches and spilling onto the forest floor, obscuring the ground beneath them, the horse wading through the mist that pooled around its hooves like a treacherous stream. An eerie silence lay on the invisible trees beside them and when the fog had become so dense that it closed in like an impenetrable wall of sickly grey he suddenly felt a sting in his chest and he knew that her sword had awoken from its slumber. This could only mean one thing: they had found her first.

This was what he had dreaded all along and now the moment of truth had come at last. He urged Silvermane to go faster and tightened the grip on her reins to make sure she would not falter on those last important steps. The stirring in his chest had risen to a powerful call when the sword trembled in her hands, eagerly awaiting its master's command. He would be guiding her blade's every motion, but only if she allowed herself to be guided. He felt her initial hesitation to put her trust in a weapon that seemingly had a mind of its own and when the first blow hit her he only barely managed to keep her from being overpowered by the enemies' relentless onslaught. She staggered and stumbled, her motions erratic and unfocused, but she was a quick learner and when he sensed her breathing falling in sync with his and her hands allowing the sword to lead her, he was with her every minute of her desperate fight.

 _Turn around. Faster. Don't let go of the sword. Raise it up again. Higher. There, you got another one!_

As if by an invisible string he pulled her through the vicious attacks, evading when possible, parrying when needed and killing when unavoidable. While he made her blade dance in her hand he unsheathed one of his own and guided Silvermane with one hand through the haze that slowly filled with repugnant sounds, abhorrent voices which might have stalled any other horses' movements and freeze the blood in their veins. But with the king's comforting words the noises lost their threatening presence and ever closer they drew, the air darkening as the light of day dwindled and Silvermane's hooves treaded more often than not on sticky threads sprawled across the forest floor.

 _Left. Right_. _Don't trip. Hold your ground._

His guidance was steadfast and precise, geared towards keeping her defence up and hopefully conserving her energy by avoiding unnecessary outbreaks. He knew that her one weakness would be the lack of endurance, so he needed to avoid those spiders getting too close to her at all costs. The webs thickened ominously along his pathway, and it would not be long now until the evil beasts would show themselves, the invisible multitude of their feet darting from tree to tree and hidden black orbs eyeing them suspiciously. His body was taut in concentration, his eyes on the pathway before him and his mind focused on every one of her motions.

 _Keep your guard up! Watch out!_

And then he saw her from afar, a small shape surrounded by an army of arachnid mercenaries with seemingly more hairy legs than there were branches in the entire forest. She was hopelessly outnumbered, sticky white webs closing in around her from all sides. A small but fresh and juicy bite of human meat was a veritable delicacy well worth fighting for. Merciless were their attacks and then she stumbled and fell, her muffled cry drowning in the wave of frantically clicking pincers, the time it took her to get back on her feet lengthening dangerously.

 _That was a close call._

And he feared that it might be the turning of the tide, her exhaustion beginning to show beneath his unerring guidance. Thranduil reined Silvermane in, bringing her to a halt at a safe distance. He dismounted swiftly without taking his eyes off the scene that brought the blood in his veins to boil. Hateful invaders of his forest were those despicable creatures, their obvious sadistic delight in torturing their defenceless prey fuelling his anger. Faster and faster he made her sword slash through the nets, her blade magically flitting through the air with unwavering aim.

 _Cut, cut the net! Now, or you will be lost!_ _Rolled up into a cocoon of juicy dinner._

Thranduil unsheathed his other sword, his fingers wrapped tightly around both hilts, the smooth metal a perfect fit for his hands that were itching to cut down those evil beasts by the dozen. He treaded with quick and silent steps, carefully avoiding the trailing webs while the twirling steel sliced through the unaware spiders that had the misfortune of getting too close to the sharp edges. Hoping to make up for her waning strength Thranduil increased the ferocity of her sword's motions, Anna's hands frantically trying to follow his lead.

 _Faster now, cut the other side loose! Move your sword, swing it high and slash through once more!_

He could not have her slowing down now! She needed to hold on for just one more moment until he was by her side! But he sensed her staggering, the will to fight trickling from her veins with every hit she took. The cord in between them both thinned out as the light inside her grew dim until she drifted out of his reach, swallowed by the shadows of despair. And despair now also clawed at his heart. He was going to lose her! Ever faster he advanced, a forceful storm ripping through the hostile ranks, wiping out everything in his path, relentless and fierce, but he could not prevent the inevitable from happening. A last flicker and then suddenly the flame in his chest died. The sword had slipped from her hands.

This would be her end.

He rushed forward, closing the distance as fast as he could, anger and wrath leading him on and then he called out with a clear voice:

"Stand back, servants of evil! And if you do not, you shall all perish for I am the king of this forest and its master and you have no place in my lands!"

With every word he cut down foes left and right, the spiders wincing under the dazzling light the Elvenking brought among them. The ones that had escaped his blades scuttled away as fast as their eight legs would carry them until the undergrowth had swallowed their black shapes for good.

"Go back into the shadows! Crawl back into your filthy lairs and do not show your hideous faces here ever again!"

He pierced their misshaped bodies and sliced them open, littering the ground with their limbs, the silver blades gooey with dark blood. Bulbous eyes stared in fear and shock and their gaping mouths contorted in horror at the merciless vengeance that rained down upon them. But their webs around her were thick and sturdy and not all had fled the scene, some still hoping for that bite of fresh meat.

"Do not dare to touch her!" He called out to the beasts that added layer after layer to her deadly cocoon. There was a silvery glow on the ground where she had dropped her sword. He picked it up to stow it away in his scabbard, reinforcing his efforts to cut through the webs that still blocked his path. With determined slashes he made his way through the sticky threads, crushing one of the spiders that lunged for his leg with the heel of his boot, sending it flying backwards with a stifled screech. And then he caught her gaze through the webs and the black bodies busying themselves around her, her eyes glazed like one that is caught in a lucid dream, and her voice weak and far away: "Thranduil, I am sorry…"

He was almost by her side, inflated black bellies bouncing off the hilt of his swords as he struck them, leaving the webs around her empty and abandoned, when her heart-piercing cry shook him to the core. One accomplice of evil had stayed in hiding and wrapped its legs now around her body from behind, the force of its sting reverberating through her limbs. Her face went blank, her eyes unfocused and he only could witness helplessly as the poison took possession of her body, spreading rapidly until she was but a limp piece of flesh, trapped like a butterfly.

No! No, not this! He had been so close! White hot rage flared up in his chest, a menacing fire burning in his eyes.

"Death is what you are asking for, beast! And death is what I will give you!"

The spider reared its ugly head behind her and hissed at the Elvenking, a foul stench emanating from its voracious gorge.

"If we cannot have her, you won't have her either," the spider rasped, an odd clicking sound in between each word.

"You do not tell me what I can and cannot have." Thranduil's voice was full of contempt as he edged closer, his eyes never leaving her face that seemed as grey and dead as stone. "And she was never yours to take. Now step aside!"

He pointed his swords at its matted eyes that were not black but a milky white, like they had lost the ability to see a long time ago. The spider dropped to the ground, crunching the leaves beneath it with its sagging belly and a ghastly laughter rang through the trees.

"You won't save her, Elf. She is only a human, and a weak one too."

Parading in between her and Thranduil it showed off the stinger smeared with fresh drops of scarlet red blood. The sight nearly made him lose his temper, but he only said: "She is not weak."

"You are wasting your time with her!" The spider revelled in the pain it was causing the Elvenking. "The poison will claim her. I made sure of it by giving her a little extra dose."

The ire in Thranduil's heart consumed his last shreds of patience and without another word he raised both swords, charged forward and with a furious stroke and two perfectly clean cuts he clove the spider in four, the animal's legs twitching in denial of death as its useless parts fell to the ground in dull thuds. He kicked the carcass aside and was by her side in an instant, his sharp blades slashing through the thick threads that glued her sticky prison to the branches above.

* * *

He caught Anna in his arms, a bundle of prey, lifeless and cold, and he had to pull himself together not to let his agony overwhelm him when he looked at her face. The face he had been looking forward to receive him with a sweet smile was now a picture of misery. Wounds of her fight with the spiders as well as her struggle with the forest's vegetation were blossoming on her skin, her lips parted in a soundless cry, her empty eyes half lidded beneath her furrowed brows and her features frozen in shock when the pain had rushed through her veins. He sank to the ground, her body so small and fragile in his arms like a little bird with broken wings. No words would come across his lips, everything that he had wanted to say silenced by this cruel twist of fate. Guilt and self-accusation knocked on his heart's door, threatening to overthrow the confidence that had brought him here. How was it possible that he had failed once again? How could he have allowed this to happen? She was his to look after and now he held the result of his broken promise in his arms.

But her journey would not end here. He would not allow it. He would not give those beasts the satisfaction of having claimed victory. But whatever he was going to do, speed was paramount. There was not enough time to get her to the palace, so he had to make do with what little he had at his disposal. Her body was as cold as ice and if it was true that the spider had purposefully injected her with a lethal dose it would require all his healing power to halt its deadly work.

With a graceful wave of his hand he unfroze the ground in front of him, the mud coloured patches of snow melting beneath his fingertips, the roots slithering underground like twisted snakes, wilted leaves shuffling aside obediently and making way for a fresh layer of moss that sprung into life at his whispered command. He then slid his cloak from his shoulders and spread it on the ground before him, all the while maintaining a firm grip on her body. With utmost care he laid her down on the soft surface that would hopefully shield her from the bitter cold. One glance at her left shoulder told him where she had been dealt a severe blow, the dark red of her blood oozing through the webs that held her prisoner. Staunching the loss of blood needed to be his first priority, otherwise her body would be too weak to fight the poison. He tugged at the gooey strings that clung to her limbs and had made a mess out of her already dishevelled appearance, freeing her left shoulder from the encrusted mixture of blood, mud and spiderwebs. With nimble fingers he carefully exposed the area where her cloak and tunic had been torn by the vicious claws. Like he suspected, the slash was deep and blood still steadily trickled down her side, soaking her clothes and his hands. He reached into his pocket to pull out the remains of _athelas_ and held them in between his hands, muttering indistinctly under his breath. A vague vapour emerged from the dried leaves as he pressed them onto the gaping wound, his hands gliding over her shoulder in a subtle pattern, the blood receding and beneath his skilled touch the marred flesh began to heal seemingly of its own accord. He followed the delicate line of her collarbone with his motions, the bruises vanishing as he passed over them. All remnants of brutal slashes faded away when he gently grazed the crook of her neck. His fingertips trailed along, soft like a feather, finally coming to rest on the hollow of her throat and for a moment there was more than just a healing touch to it. His gaze was caught by the pleasant way the curve of his thumb fitted against the rounded valley, a sight so delightful that he lingered just for another instant before he slowly retreated his hands. He took a deep breath to recompose himself for the difficult task that lay still ahead of him. If healing Faeldir had required all his strength, wresting her from the shadows was no less of a challenge.

He closed his eyes and laid a hand upon her brow, the warmth of his body battling the frost of her own and a stillness enveloped them both. Not a leaf in the forest dared to move as he bent over her, his other hand resting on her heart, the leaves of _athelas_ nestled in between. There was a tingle in his fingertips as he touched her and his spirit called out to hers through the darkness that held her captive. And with a soft murmur he began his enchantment, his voice never rising beyond a whisper.

" _Adaneth, telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo don nan galad_."

A faint silver glow emanated from his hands as the power of his words flowed through them and a refreshing breeze rose from the leaves on her chest.

" _Lasto beth nîn, adaneth_ ," he said softly, bowing down even lower and bringing his mouth to her ear. " _Tolo don nan galad_."

Small pearls of sweat were forming on her forehead, a reviving warmth descending on the frozen features of her face as he fought the poison in her veins and pulled her body steadily out of its venomous prison.

"May the grace of the Valar in their everlasting light lift the darkness from you." A small sigh heaved her chest, her heart faintly answering his call and her pulse slowly coming back from its deadly silence.

"I call upon the spirits of the forest to release you from the shadows."

The branches shivered and the ground trembled when the forest answered the king's summon. An eerie melody arose, faint like a rustle in the wind and deep like a rumble in the earth, the otherworldly glow that emanated from Thranduil now radiating around them both, blinding and bright, the sweet fragrance of _athelas_ filling the air with memories of summer flowers and azure skies and then he whispered once more: " _Tolo don nan galad, adaneth_."

Like liquid jewels the light trickled from his fingertips onto her skin in pale gossamer threads, slender veins of silver drowning the blackness in pure starlight. Every pore filled with renewed life and the numbing paralysis melted away beneath the powerful magic of the Elvenking. Shivers ran through her limbs as they were being freed from the spider's venom and the lifeless grey of her skin faded away with the warmth returning to her body, his hands guiding her through the valleys of darkness with their healing light.

When he opened his eyes his mouth hovered above hers, the heart-shaped bow of her lips so close that it took all his kingly composure not to give in to the temptation of sealing them with his own. Just like on that first day so long ago his self-restraint would have to hold; as it did. Instead he watched her silently as her breathing became more regular, his fingers stroking her hair that was still tangled with the remainders of her sticky cocoon.

"I am sorry that I was not there to protect you," he said and tears rolled down his cheek and onto her face. " _Goheno nin_."

With a sudden gasp she opened her eyes and there was a frantic look in them as if her mind was still reliving those terrifying moments before he found her.

"They are everywhere —," she mumbled, her gaze feverish, "I — their eyes…" She struggled to move, trying to flee from the nightmare that was still haunting her.

"Hush now," he said, his voice soothing and calm. "The beasts are gone and they will not return for as long as I am here with you."

He took her hands in his, caressing them gently, and they had gone from stone cold to a burning fever.

"We need to get you back to the palace as swiftly as possible. Your body is still weakened by your wounds and the poison. The evil shadow has fled from your veins, but the aftermath of what has taken possession of your body is still lingering on. For how long, I cannot tell. But you must rest to recover."

Her eyes were wide in horror, staring blankly into space and only very slowly they focused on his face. "You came for me," was all she managed to say. The gratefulness in her words brought a sad smile to his face.

"Yes, of course I did." He nodded. "And I should have never left you in the first place."

With those words he bundled up her shivering body in his cloak hoping to keep her warm and safe. He carried her to Silvermane, who had trotted up to them both, lifted her up and she slumped into the saddle, too weak to sit up on her own. He quickly took a seat behind her and when she sank against his chest with an exhausted sigh he could feel the feverish heat spreading through her body at an alarming rate.

"I will not let you go again," he murmured, brushing her forehead with his lips, "ever."

The ghost of a smile flickered across Anna's face and then she drifted back into unconsciousness.

With one arm slung around her he took the reins and his call could be heard through the thickets of Mirkwood.

"Silvermane, show us the meaning of haste!"

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _Eryn Galen_ \- Greenwood the Great

 _athelas_ \- kingsfoil (a medicinal herb)

 _adaneth_ \- (mortal) woman

 _telin le thaed -_ I have come to help you

 _lasto beth nîn -_ hear my voice

 _tolo don nan galad -_ come back to the light

 _goheno nin_ \- forgive me

Lines in italic other than the Sindarin ones are Thranduil's thoughts as he guides the Queen's sword.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: I really loved writing this chapter. First: it was a real challenge, because of the complexity of its timeline. It is the companion to 'The Bitterness of Winter' so there were some scenes that had to be planned and written in a way to ensure that Thranduil and Anna would eventually find each other at the correct place and time. Especially the fight with the spiders was not easy, because I had to be sure to stick to what I had already written before, only now changing the perspective to Thranduil's point of view._

 _Second: I have been looking forward so much to the moment of bringing those two together again, after all we have been waiting long enough. I promise you that there will be more romance in the upcoming chapters, but this one needed the action and the heroic saving, so here wasn't that much space for a lot of lovey-dovey feelings, what with all the spiders, mud and blood and so on. Nevertheless I could not completely do without the small bits of romantic sprinkles, which I hope you have enjoyed :)._

 _Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!_

 _Stay tuned for Chapter 23^^!_


	24. Fire and Faith

**I would like to thank the following lovely people, who have left a review on the preceding chapter: Averlovi, Emperor DeLacus, Raider-K, Guest thrndlwood and LaBellios!**

 **Thank you also all those who have faved and/or followed this story! You are the best :)**

 **Onwards to the next chapter: Thranduil and Anna are now heading back to the palace, but the night is dark and full of terror...**

* * *

 _Chapter 23 - Fire and Faith_

 _Darkness exists to make light truly count._

(Sleeping At Last: Uneven Odds)

Darkness was Anna's steady companion on the journey back to the palace, dense, thick and all encompassing. It was a different one than on that far away summer day when Thranduil had first brought her to his halls. This time there was no blindfold keeping her from taking in her surroundings. Not that she would have needed it anyway. The blackness of night hid paths and vegetation alike, the faint silver glow emanating from Thranduil the single source of light as they sped on through the endlessly repeating rows of trees. Sluggishly like tar the darkness waltzed through her veins and crawled into her mind, taking possession of her every thought and leaving her body a trembling leaf in the arms of the king. Salty tears trickled down her cheeks as the realisation sunk in of how close she had been to take death's cold hand. Thranduil had come to her rescue and pulled her back from the abyss, but the skulking shadows remained and threatened to drown her in their flood of terrifying visions. The horse's cantering beneath her and Thranduil's steadfast figure behind her were the only comfort in her state of dread. Feverish shivers ran through her body and if it hadn't been for the Elvenking's firm grip she might have slid off the saddle more than once. She drifted in and out of consciousness, shreds of reality and fragments of dreams mingling in her head until everything was but a hazy blur of indistinguishable sounds and distorted images.

Voracious gorges opening wide, hairy legs lunging at her, pincers clicking frantically and webs spinning around her limbs at relentless speed kept her a prisoner of the horror she so narrowly had escaped. And through it weaved themselves ghostly visions of a life she had thought long lost, sudden flashes of broken memories, eyes that searched for whom they could not find and hands that reached out but disappeared in the mist of time. And then there was the Elvenking's tender touch shining through it all like a ray of hope, the honest relief in his eyes when he finally held her in his arms alive warming her heart in a way she did not think possible.

Every single inch in her body was sore, her left shoulder reminding her with merciless consistency that she had recently been severely wounded and evaded death by just a hair. She sought to pull herself up, trying to relieve the pressure on her still aching injury, but her muscles would not obey her head's command and she only slumped back sideways, burying her face in the folds of Thranduil's robe in a rather unceremonious way. Had she been just a little less sick, she might have instinctively backed away from such sudden closeness, afraid of it being considered inappropriate. But she felt nauseous and dizzy, the fever coursing through her veins with relentless heat, and protocol was the last thing on her mind. She barely could think straight, the pain spreading now also from her lower back into every corner of her body. Sensing her clumsy attempt at getting into a more comfortable position Thranduil pulled her even closer until her head rested tightly against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around her waist.

"Just hold on a little more," he murmured into her hair. She could feel the taut muscles of his chest flexing beneath the softness of his brocade gown, his warmth and his enticing scent enveloping her, lulling her back into an uneasy sleep, uncountable hours of travelling still ahead.

The sudden absence of steady motion woke her from her slumber and an unexpected icy touch on her forehead made her flinch and stir in Thranduil's tight grip. Her eyes flew open but she thought herself still dreaming as her gaze was caught by two gems of starlight, so beautiful and bright it almost took her breath away. Deep like the ocean and endless like the sky, they pulled her towards their depths until she tumbled into those alluring pools of blue, a promise of eternal bliss opening up before her.

But then suddenly the brightness faded away, the starlight dwindling, her vision obscured by shadows. Rising up like clouds of smoke they built up around her and she fell back into the darkness. A voice, faint and far, called from beyond the shadows:

"Don't give in! Come back to the light!"

But she wanted to sink into the velvety embrace of oblivion, where her pain would be gone, and she didn't have to breathe anymore. She had to let go. Motionless she hung in Thranduil's arm, oblivious of the words that were trying to cut through the void that was luring her in.

"Listen to me! Don't let go!"

It was excruciating and impossible. If she drew only one more breath she would have to endure the fever and the pain. Giving in and letting go was so much easier than being brave. Urgent was the voice and frantic the hold on her face.

"Please, breathe! For me!"

 _For me!_

The words were like a gentle whisper, a feathery touch on her soul, stirring up a feeling stronger than fear from the embers of her heart. A sweet scent of berries and forest leaves caressed her lips and suddenly that singular moment when the Elvenking's mouth had almost touched hers flashed before her inner eye. To finally taste those lips was all she had ever longed for. Yes, maybe she could stay. Stay for him. Fight the shadows. Be brave.

Thranduil had brought the horse to a halt and was looking down at her in shock. He held her face in his hands, his lips so close that his breath had mingled with hers, his fingers now coming to rest on her neck to check her racing pulse. She could do nothing but silently stare at him, her blood a roaring river beneath the icicles that were his fingers on her throat. He knitted his brows, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"You are burning up. This is not a natural fever."

His words reached her through the veil of a dream, their meaning only slowly sinking in. She opened her mouth, a flood of questions ready to burst forth, but the only thing that made its way through was the one that mattered.

"Am I going to die?"

A dreadful feeling pooled in her stomach and her throat went dry when he did not answer immediately. He brushed a wayward strand from her face and shook his head slowly.

"No, you won't," he said, an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But this does seem more serious though than what I have thought, so I will need to take a look at the sting. I fear that there lies the root of your alarming condition."

"Here? Now?" She stirred in his arms and her eyes widened at the prospect of having to linger longer than absolutely necessary in this forbidding forest, even if she was now in the safe hands of its king. The terrifying images were not so easily shaken off and she only wished to escape their haunting shadows rather sooner than later.

"Yes, here and now and not any minute later!" For a moment his voice had taken on its usual commanding manner, but he caught himself upon seeing the look of fear on her face, softening his tone again as he went on.

"We are still nearly a day's ride away from the palace, even if I urge Silvermane to go as fast as she can, which I will not, because not only will it exhaust her and push her beyond her limits, but it will also be too strenuous for your body that is weakened by your wounds and tormented by this insistent fever."

"Of course," she said quietly, not daring to insist any further. After all her life was in his hands and it would not be wise to upset him with unduly objections, besides in her present state she wouldn't have been able to put her thoughts into a reasonable sentence anyway.

* * *

Without any further ado he proceeded to dismount, lifting her bundled up body from Silvermane and carrying her over towards a withered oak of massive proportions, its gnarled bark resembling the rugged skin of an ancient reptile and shimmering dark grey as Thranduil approached it. Through her feverish haze and the pitch black of night every spot seemed just like any other, but she had all reason to assume that Thranduil, knowing his forest like no other, would choose a suitably sheltered area for his purposes. He carefully placed her on the mossy ground with her back resting against the tree trunk, a roof of low lying branches fanning out on top of her, shielding her from the icy gusts of wind that roamed the forest day and night like volatile ghosts. He wrapped his cloak tighter around her shoulders, diligently tucking it in along the edges, while his testing gaze lingered on her. She wanted to say that she was afraid, afraid of dying and of never seeing him again, but the strange heat that pushed itself through her body had left her speechless. He did not need to hear anything from her as the desperate gleam in her eyes told him more than words ever could.

"I know what it is you fear. I see it in your eyes, but I also see that there is faith in your heart. That is what you must hold on to," he said and then he rose to his feet, quickly making his way to Silvermane. Her eyes followed him until his tall and slender figure was momentarily obscured by the black veil of night. And then it suddenly dawned on her that she had not even noticed the absence of his elk until now. She could only surmise what that meant and there was a lump in her throat when she thought of the possibly tragic fate of this majestic creature that had brought her to Thranduil's halls. But she did not dare to ask him about it, not yet at least, as she did not want to stir up any painful memories and with herself still in the fever's tight grip this was something that would have to wait.

She tried to stay calm as best as she could, pulling the cloak up to her chin, suddenly feeling robbed of Thranduil's warmth. Her head fell back against the rough bark and she lost herself in the ever darkening tangle above her while he busied himself at her feet. Muffled shuffling and rummaging reached her ear accompanied by the sound of snapping twigs. A moment of silence followed, abruptly broken by a harsh hissing sound and then a reviving warmth accompanied by the distinct smell of burning firewood filled the night air, pushing back the bitter cold around her. Thranduil had conjured up a crackling fire despite the obvious absence of dry wood or any other means to get a fire going, but of course who was she to question his remarkable magical abilities?

For a while the only sounds being heard were the spluttering of the rapidly rising flames devouring the offered logs and the occasional sizzling as twig after twig gave in to the power of the ever hungry flames. And then Thranduil opened his hands, sprinkling dried leaves and flowers into the flames that made them instantly turn a cyan blue before gradually returning to their deep amber glow. They flared up brightly as if the spirits of the forest had come to dance in within the fire, the flames climbing high into the night in an ever changing rhythm. A tangy scent of woodland herbs emanated from the fire, mingling with the spicy odour of wood and moss. Fascinated she marvelled at the unbridled power living in within the flames, transfixed by the light, her wavering senses enveloped by the fragrances, familiar and foreign alike. When she pulled her eyes away to look at Thranduil she found his gaze lost in the fire and there was a strange glow in his eyes, the flickering flames dancing like orange spectres in those mysterious depths. More than ever he appeared to her like an otherworldly being that was both ancient and ageless.

"It is a strange thing, fire," he said and she was not sure if he was even talking to her. "Beautiful and dangerous, life and death seeking to devour each other in an everlasting dance." He seemed to be far away, his voice weary of an endless lifetime of sorrows.

She was vaguely reminded of the day he had shown her his scars, and she could only imagine the suffering he must have gone through when the dragon's fiery breath had almost taken his life. And if she looked very closely she thought that she could see their faint outlines beneath the smooth perfection of his face, illuminated by the golden light, or were this just the fire and her fever playing tricks on her eyesight? She suddenly felt the urge to run her fingers over those imperfections, feeling every single one of them with her own hands and kissing away what has caused him so much pain until that lingering veil of sadness on his soul would be forever torn apart. His eyes suddenly rose from the fire to lock with hers and there was an ardent longing in them that hit her straight at heart. In the blink of an eye the moment was gone, blown out like a candle in the wind, as he quickly pulled up the shield of his kingly composure, but they both knew what they had seen: it was a glimpse of the fire that she had kindled in his heart, no matter how much he might seek to abate it.

"But let us not tarry any longer now," he cut through the silence, his words bringing her back to the present that admittedly looked less than bright for her. He moved to sit beside her and reached out for her hands, cold and clammy as they were, his concern carefully veiled behind measured words.

"Now I must see to this strange fever of yours. The fire will keep your body warm and your mind focused while I attend to the sting on your back."

She looked at him through glazed eyes, fever and fire both clouding her mind, the touch of his hands providing welcome comfort.

"Will it hurt?" She swallowed hard, her hands trembling in his gentle hold.

He nodded slowly. "Yes, possibly. I will not lie to you." He squeezed her fingers lightly. "But I must do this. Now, or it might be too late. You will have to be brave, which I know you can."

Her attempt at a bitter laugh only made it to a crooked smile and a weary sigh. "I only hope that you are right."

"I know I am," he said in a confident tone and with a final squeeze he let go of her hands. "Now let us begin."

He beckoned her to move away from the tree trunk so he could sit right behind her, making her lean forward to give him full access to her back.

"Do not be afraid. I promise you that I will be careful." He laid his hands on her shoulders to keep them from trembling. "You do trust me, do you?"

"Yes," she breathed, although she was not quite sure what she was to expect from all this, but she felt so sick that most likely anything would be an improvement to her current situation.

"Good," he said and she could hear him draw a sharp breath behind her.

* * *

He slowly pulled the cloak from her shoulders, letting it pool around her waist, and then his hands busied themselves around her neck, brushing her tangled hair towards one side, his fingers taking a hold of the laces that held the bodice of her tattered tunic together. Suddenly she was awfully conscious of her more than ragged appearance. Her clothes were torn in several places, dirt, sweat, her own blood, that of the spiders and on top of everything the remnants of their clingy webs rendering her tunic a rather appalling piece of clothing. But then she scolded herself for being silly and unreasonable. This was not the right moment to be self conscious or worried about her looks, after all Thranduil's splendid robe and cloak had also acquired some decidedly nasty stains during the fight with the spiders and he would surely have other concerns on his mind than assessing the condition of her clothing.

She tried to hold still through her feverish shivers while he worked carefully through the laces of her tunic, loop after loop, the featherlike graze of his fingers a treasured memory of something nearly forgotten. Inch by inch his fingers worked through the cloth, her muscles tensing as another wave of tremors slithered through her veins and she could barely hold back a moan. While she maintained her eyes fixed on the spitting flames in front of her, the bodice gradually came undone, and she held her breath as the pain resonated relentlessly throughout her chest.

"Breathe, slow and steady. It will help you ease the pain." His soft spoken words accompanied the skilful touch of his hands that soon had reached the last loop, the bodice now falling open and sliding over her shoulders. He rolled up her undershirt until her lower back was completely exposed to his eyes.

"Remember: no matter what happens and no matter what you feel, do not stop breathing."

She closed her eyes, hoping to work up the mental energy needed to focus on such a simple task that had suddenly become ridiculously difficult.

"I'm trying," she mumbled in between some failed attempts of veering her mind's attention away from the pain and towards providing her body with life-giving air supply. The distinctly sweet fragrance of _athelas_ rose in the air behind her and then she felt the firm pressure of his palm against the centre of her pain. She flinched at the sudden burning sensation, stifling a cry and instinctively trying to back away. He placed his other hand on her shoulder, holding her steady, so she would not evade his grip.

"This might feel very uncomfortable at first, but I need you to trust me and follow my lead. I am not going to hurt you, but whatever is still afflicting you might do so as it puts up a fight."

She nodded weakly, trying to keep her rising fear and racing heart in check, but she was more than unsure if she would be able to make it through this possible torture in a dignified way.

A numbing pain stabbed her lower back like a flaming sword, the force of the impact nearly throwing her off balance. Uncomfortable was a bold understatement! If it weren't for the firm grip he had on her, she would have crumbled beneath the agony that shot through her veins like lightning. A low groan escaped her mouth, her hands digging into the ground beneath her in an effort to keep her from yelling out loud. She feared to collapse forward and pass out, the endless void luring her into its welcoming arms once again with the tempting promise of blissful oblivion.

"Don't give in!" he said with determination. "I know you have the strength in you. I have seen you fighting. You are anything but weak. But if you give in to the darkness then I cannot pull you from it alone. I need you by my side in this."

The tone in his voice was pleading but firm. She bit her lower lip to force back the hot tears that stung in her eyes and simply nodded again as a sign that she understood. She wanted to show him that she could do this, that she was worthy of his praise. At least she had to try. Or die trying, she thought to herself with a sudden dash of sarcasm that seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Good. Now keep your eyes open and on the flames."

He slowly began to circle his palm on top of the sting, applying an increasing amount of pressure as he moved.

"Feel my hand and hear my voice and I will guide you through this."

At first she struggled to comply, fearing to lose the little control she still held over her body and thoroughly embarrassing herself in front of him, if the pain got any worse, but what choice did she have? If it weren't for him she might as well lie down and wait for death to claim her. So she took a deep breath, fixed her eyes on the flames like he had told her and leaned into his touch.

The burning pain intensified momentarily, but once she gave herself completely to his hands, letting go of all resistance and embracing the inevitable, it became slightly more bearable. Through the haze of it all she heard Thranduil mutter indistinctly under his breath behind her, the steady rhythm of his incantations setting the pace for his hand. The intensifying scent of _athelas_ mingled with the dancing flames before her eyes and she could only stare entranced at the fiery tongues illuminating the blackness of night while his hands and his voice worked their magic on her. Needles dipped in fire pierced her flesh wherever his hand passed over it, the spiralling motion rhythmically picking up speed until he seemed to reach through her skin into her bones. A drawn out moan accompanied every single breath she took and pearls of sweat dripped down her forehead, her hands grabbing the heavy fabric of Thranduil's cloak around her in a desperate effort to hold on to something as she feared to be swept away by the torrent of harrowing pain. His voice behind her was now loud and clear when he spoke:

" _Lasto beth nîn. Naur an edraith ammen_!"

Suddenly the heat inside her shot to unbearable heights and he had to tighten his fingers around her shoulder even more to keep her upright.

" _Naur dan i naur_!"

His words rang like an echo in her own head and then fire was all over her, the flames pouring in through Thranduil's hand, burning her from inside out. She writhed in his iron grip, trembling and shaking, but he held her steady, his mouth now right behind her ear.

"Now repeat after me: fire shall come to the rescue!"

At first her mouth would not open, her lips sealed by the pain that held her captive, the flickering blaze encompassing her with its relentless power.

"Say it!" he ordered and she finally willed her mouth to form the words:

"Fire shall come to the rescue!"

The moment the last syllable had dropped from her lips her vision blurred, her body a shivering mess in the midst of a red-hot tempest, the sound of his voice the only thing keeping her from falling apart. She could not even feel his hands anymore on her back or her shoulder, as her skin just seemed to melt away like wax.

"Now repeat once more after me: Fire will be fought with fire!"

"I can't—," she stammered, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had reached the limit of what her body could withstand.

"Yes, you can. Just one more time."

Anna broke into silent sobs and wished for him just to let her die in peace rather than have to endure this scorching heat that had taken possession of her entire existence any longer.

"No, no, please just let it end," she whimpered, but she did not even have the strength to tear herself away from him and sink to the ground to let the deadly fever do its work and be done with it.

"I will not allow that to happen. I will not lose you now!" A streak of panic overshadowed the commanding presence of his voice. "But I cannot do this without you. I need you to stay with me! Please!"

Her lips were dry and she was running out of air, her body trapped in a bottomless pit of hot coals and her mind tormented by wildfire, but somewhere in the depths of her heart, untouched by the fever, the small but resilient flame that was her faith still flickered meagrely, and with what little resolve she had left she finally whispered:

"Fire will be fought with fire!"

Nothing prepared her though for the overpowering sea of flames that reared up within her veins, towering waves of orange and crimson crashing over her and burying her beneath their burning sea. With a choked cry she finally collapsed and fell backwards into Thranduil's arms and for a moment everything went black, her body completely numb, the fire ebbing away like the tide and the echo of her pain floating through her limbs like a terrible memory.

* * *

" _Mae carnen, adaneth_ ," he whispered into her hair, but she was so exhausted that she barely took notice of the appreciation that rang through his words. He cradled her in his arms, gently rocking her back and forth while she came back from her horrible endeavour, her breathing gradually returning to a more regular and steady pace, her tremors receding.

"I knew you could do it," he said, lifting up her chin so she would meet his gaze. Through her tears and sweat she could barely focus, but the affectionate glow in his eyes was unmistakable. "Don't you ever doubt your strength again, my little lady."

She only smiled weakly, her head sinking back against his chest, whatever strength she might indeed have had now thoroughly depleted and being replaced by the urge to simply close her eyes and doze off in his embrace.

"Now drink this," she heard him say and when she looked up again he had produced a cup filled with a cinnamon coloured liquid seemingly out of nowhere, bringing it to her lips, while his other arm propped her up against his chest so she wouldn't slump to the ground. A peculiar aroma rose from the cup, tingling her nose in a pleasant way, still there was a doubtful frown on her face, which he countered with a distinctly patronising tone.

"It is a herbal infusion and it will help you recover your health. So drink it up."

The instant the metal touched her cracked lips she gulped the liquid down like someone dying of thirst. It was surprisingly refreshing despite the initial bitter taste, and she blissfully ignored the drops that spilled and trickled over her chin in her eagerness to drain the whole cup at once.

"Now, now, take your time," Thranduil said with a chuckle, slightly lowering the cup to slow down her pace. "There is enough to quench your thirst."

He set the cup aside and wiped her chin with the edge of his cloak once she was done, a caring look on his face.

"Feeling better?" he asked as the reviving liquid made its way through her veins, her body gradually recovering from the strain of the fever.

"Yes, I think so," she said, her voice still hoarse.

"Good. Then let me tie up your tunic again."

"Yes, of course," she muttered. She had almost forgotten that she was still with her back half naked, so she scrambled as best as she could into a sitting position, facing away from him. With her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around them she waited while he got to work behind her. He added another layer of cloth to her lower back for additional comfort, the sting still overly sensitive to his touch, before diligently restoring her tunic to its original state, as disarrayed as it might have been, the gooeyness of the spiderwebs still clinging to it in various places. When he reached her neck he finished the laces up with a bow, purposefully stretching the moment before he retreated his hands again, his voice soft like velvet against her ear. "There you go, you are all set."

"Thank you," she whispered, silently wishing that he might have taken just a bit longer so she would not be deprived of his touch again so soon.

He got up behind her and when she turned around he returned with a small pouch he had procured from Silvermane's saddlebags. He sat down beside her, pulling out a loaf of bread, some slices of cheese and a bunch of grapes, carefully placing everything in her lap.

"Here, you should eat this. You need to regain some of your strength."

Her initial hesitation to accept the food — after all, being sick had numbed her desire to eat —, melted away quickly when she took her first bite of bread.

"Thank you," she mumbled gratefully, her taste buds revelling in the simple pleasure of fresh food. She had almost forgotten such wonderful things even existed. He nodded benevolently, a small smile on his face.

"You are very welcome. I thought that you must be starving."

Nodding fervently she stuffed her mouth with what he offered her, such true delicacies tickling her palate which had been used to only dried crumbs of _lembas_ and frozen water in those past days. He watched her with a satisfied look, leaning back against the tree and plucking a few grapes for himself to let them glide into his mouth one by one with an elegant twist of his hand, the elaborate rings on his fingers gleaming iridescently in the fire's golden glow. Under different circumstances this would have been an undeniably sensual sight, but Anna had other things on her mind, her craving for food stronger than anything else she might have desired.

In a matter of minutes she had devoured everything, the feeling of being truly sated comfortably settling in her stomach. The only thing missing now to cap it all was a drop of this divine Dorwinion she had tasted on a few special occasions in Thranduil's halls. But of course she did not think that he would actually have brought some with him. And besides she was in no state to be drinking wine now anyway. He seemed to have read her mind, offering her another cup of the herbal beverage with an apologetic look on his face.

"I am sorry that I do not have any Dorwinion, but I am afraid my servants thought I would not be needing such a luxury on my journey. I promise you that I will make up for the lack of it once we are back home."

 _Home_

Hearing this word from his lips was strange and exhilarating alike and accompanying it there was the small and seemingly insignificant word _we_ that made her heart flutter in the strangest of ways. She wordlessly took the cup, scolding herself for her foolishness. She did not have any home. None that she knew of; not yet at least. Staring silently into the cup she was sorely reminded of the empty space in her heart that was longing to be filled. But with what? There were so many pieces missing of the puzzle that was her life.

"I know what you must be thinking. That my home is not your home."

She looked up to him again, his crystal clear eyes looking straight into her soul, and there it was again: the beautiful light that could chase away all darkness. And so much more if he offered it and she accepted. She clung to her cup, trying to hold on to whatever shreds of calmness she still had.

"I am afraid that I can only ever be a guest at your home."

She might not know what was her place in this world, but she knew that it did not do well to dwell on illusions. He leaned closer, so close she could have sworn he must have heard her hammering heartbeat through her clothes, his hair cascading like rays of moonlight around his shoulders.

"While that remains true for the past it does not need to be for the future."

And with those words he picked up his own cup and brought it to his lips, inviting her to drink with him. He watched her silently over the rim of his cup, the crackling of the fire the only sound filling the night air, while they downed your cups together. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve like she was used to do in her recent days in the wild, breaking off abruptly when she saw the corners of Thranduil's mouth twitching almost imperceptibly.

"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her gaze as well as her empty cup. "I must have forgotten all my manners." She quickly handed him the cup, reminding herself that she was sitting beside a king after all.

"You have no reason to be embarrassed," he said kindly. "This is not the right moment to be concerned with manners or protocol."

The crease on his forehead deepened momentarily, her still rather worn out look not escaping his attention. The delightful drink had filled her with a cosy warmth and now she could barely keep her eyes open, a laden heaviness spreading through her limbs.

"As a matter of fact, I am still rather concerned with your frail condition. That is why you must sleep now before we head out. I will wake you when the morning dawns."

She peered anxiously into the darkness that still loomed beyond the fire's protective ring, torn in between wanting to escape the possible dangers of the forest and her body's obvious desire to rest.

"Are you sure this is necessary? I think I could go on." An unsuccessfully stifled yawn blatantly undermined her halfhearted attempt at sounding convincing.

He arched his eyebrows ever so slightly, her persistent stubbornness eliciting a sigh from him.

"Yes, I am sure and no, you are not prepared to go on. I know you are tired and your body needs to rest."

"And what about you?" she asked, seeing the slightly strained look on his face. After all, the magic he had worked must have also cost him some of his strength.

"I do not need to rest. I will watch over your sleep and make sure the fire does not go out." He put on a stern face that would allow no further dissent. "I command it: not as your king but as your healer. And I do not take no for an answer. Healers must be just as rigorous as monarchs for the sake of the one's that are entrusted to their care."

She blushed, moved by the fact how much he actually cared for her wellbeing, so she nodded obediently.

"Fine, if you insist then I will sleep for a short while, but not too long. I have never been really fond of sleeping outside."

Without another word he went to fetch a thick blanket from Silvermane's saddlebags and spread it on the ground in front of the tree. He indicated for her to lie down while he resumed his sitting position against the tree trunk. Overcome with exhaustion she accommodated herself as best as she could, stretching out her aching limbs on the blanket. The moment she touched the invitingly soft surface she realised just how sleepy she really was. She curled up beside him, allowing him to pull his cloak over her body so she would be shielded from the cold, the fire holding the wintry frost at bay with its merrily crackling flames.

"I assure you there is nothing more beautiful than to sleep under the cover of the stars," he said, looking down at her with fondness. "When the time is right, I will show you and you will see."

She nodded drowsily, drifting off almost instantly into a deep slumber. Besides every inch of her body being sore and strung out from the fever, at this very moment there was peace in her heart.

To be continued …

Sindarin:

 _athelas_ \- kingsfoil, a medicinal herb

 _Lasto beth nîn -_ listen to me

 _Naur an edraith ammen -_ the fire shall save us (~ fire shall come to the rescue)

 _Naur dan i naur -_ fire against fire (~ fire will be fought with fire)

 _Mae carnen -_ well done

 _adaneth -_ mortal woman

* * *

 **Author's Notes: So, this was some really nasty fever, but lucky for Anna, Thranduil's hands can work magic :). I hope you have enjoyed this rather intense chapter and are ready for what I have planned for the two of them on the way back to the palace.**

 **Stay tuned for Chapter 24^^!**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated :D!**


	25. Tender Feelings and Little Secrets

**Thank you so much to all those lovely people who have reviewed the preceding chapter: thrndlwood, Emperor DeLacus, Guest, LaBellios and Lydwina Marie! I really appreciate you taking the time to write a review!**

 **A BIG thank you also to all those wonderful readers who have followed and/or favourited this story!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter it is with Anna recovering from her fever and some nice little surprises along the way...**

* * *

 _Chapter 24 - Tender Feelings and Little Secrets_

A gentle touch on her cheek awoke Anna from her slumber. At first she was reluctant to open her eyes, wishing to hold on to the last threads of golden dreams her mind had woven out of affectionate glances and warm embraces.

" _Adaneth,_ " the fingers against her skin were now accompanied by a soft voice sinking into the fading clouds of her dreams. "Wake up. It is nearly dawn and we still have a long way ahead."

A muffled grumbling was her only answer, the covers too soft and the images too beautiful to be exchanged for the cold of winter. She shifted around trying to slide deeper under the covers hoping to evade the unwelcome intruder into her snuggly cocoon.

"It is time. You must rise now."

The voice was insistent and wouldn't go away, no matter how much she pretended not to hear it and sliding down any lower wasn't an option as she felt the searing heat of fire creeping up dangerously close to her toes. But only when a hand tugged with determination at her shoulder she finally stirred and reluctantly willed her eyes open.

The first thing she saw was a giant heap of silvery cloth blocking her line of vision and when she slowly pulled the cloak from her eyes the outline of a pair of thighs, stretched out beside her, came in focus. Her eyes followed the delicate floral pattern of the light grey robe that enveloped the body's slender form, travelling upwards across dried bloodstains and small tears in the fabric, over the perfect line of clasps running up the chest like silver beads, coming to rest on that familiar spider brooch. By the time her eyes had reached the tempting curve of the elegant neck a small smile dawned on her face. She knew what would come into sight next: A determined jawline, perfectly shaped lips with an enticing gap in between them, and then under those heavy brows she would finally meet the eyes of her dreams just instants ago. So it was real and suddenly waking up didn't seem so bad after all.

"Mmorng," she mumbled into the thick folds, her mouth not really ready for anything beyond some unintelligible syllables.

"Well, good morning it is to you too," Thranduil said with a smirk on his face as he gently pushed aside the layers of heavy fabric under which half of her face was still buried. She squinted up to him through sleepy eyes, although the light of dawn was only a somewhat dreary shade of grey, a drawn out yawn accompanying her lazy attempt at getting her body in motion.

He tilted his head sideways to get a better look at her face. "May I remind you that you were stubbornly adamant about not needing any rest, and look at you now: the one that didn't want to sleep! I'm barely able to wake you from your slumber." The strands of his hair tickling her nose finally dragged her from her drowsy state and she stretched her stiff limbs while trying to think of something smart to say.

"Well, that was yesterday. Now is today, so that's different," was the best she could come up with, her face still scrunched up as she fought her inner demons that sought to pull her back into her slumber.

He raised his eyebrows in amusement, a playful sparkle in his eyes. "If you say so my dear, I shall of course not query your undeniably logical way of reasoning."

His low chuckle turned into an open smile, revealing a row of pearly white teeth and she couldn't help but giggle at the silliness of her statement. It was way too early for her mind to be sharp and she could feel the aftermath of her nightmarish fight against the fever still like an echo in every fibre of her body.

Her first attempt at pushing herself up into a sitting position ended quite abruptly. She slumped backwards onto the blanket with a groan, the dull sting shooting through her body a painful reminder that her injuries were still fresh after all. She closed her eyes, trying to collect herself when she heard his voice beside her ear.

"Let me help you," he said and before she could make another move he had wrapped an arm around her, offering her his other hand so she could steady herself. She put her hand in his and allowed his strong arms to pull her up until she had gotten into a somewhat stable sitting position. He made sure to place his cloak around her again to keep the early morning chill away from her, carefully extracting the strands of her hair from under the heavy fabric and gracing her with a smile once everything was to his satisfaction. She shifted around slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry to be such a burden," she whispered in a small voice.

He leaned back against the tree, pulling up one knee and resting his elbow on it. "Don't say such a thing. You are not a burden. You are in my care and I will do everything necessary to ensure that you will recover swiftly."

A thankful smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you, my king."

But then an unsettling thought crawled into her mind: "Why has the fever affected me like that?" She hoped to sound as casual as possible, trying not to allow her fear to float to the surface: "Will it come back again?"

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if he was trying to decide how much of what he knew he could tell her without planting more worries inside her head. He brushed off a piece of charred bark that had settled on his robe and then spoke with words that were, like always, carefully chosen and precisely measured:

"To answer your first question: This spider was not just any spider, but she was the leader, the oldest and most wicked of them all, a spawn of Shelob, ever eager for more territory for her offsprings and always hungry. They do not get much chances to find fresh human meat so she was even more aggressive than the usual. She does not appreciate being deprived of her prey. What she did, she did to mock me and she injected you with a lethal dose out of sheer spite, to prove her power. And since you are a human and not an elf, the venom affected you in a more life threatening way." His expression hardened and he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, his rings cutting into his flesh. "But she paid a bitter price for it. No one mocks the Elvenking and hopes to get away with it." There was a fierce glint in his eyes and apart from the recent events, painful memories of old seemed to take shape in Thranduil's mind.

She only nodded silently, not really knowing what to say, but he swiftly brought himself back to the present, his fingers gradually relaxing.

"Your second question is more difficult to answer. I am quite certain that I have halted the fever for now, but I cannot completely rule out that all the evil has left your body for good."

"I really hope it doesn't come back. I don't know if I could go through another torture like the one last night," she said, the thought alone making her shiver in horror.

"I know you could, although I do not think it will be necessary," he said without any hesitation. "You were very brave, braver than many humans that have crossed my path during the undoubtedly long time I have walked this earth."

"Well, then you are more convinced of my strength than I am," she said, inwardly feeling at least a little bit proud that he apparently thought so highly of her.

He picked up a twig from the ground and began poking the fire that was wavering in its strength, lifting a log here and there and stirring up the embers and soon the flames were back to their former dance with renewed strength. And while she watched him in silence, a sudden realisation struck her like lightning: "You saved my life, not only once, but twice. And I have not even thanked you properly for it."

The lingering deliriousness of her fever was finally wearing off, like a veil being pulled from her eyes, allowing for the magnitude of the recent events to sink in. His fingers toyed absentmindedly with the twig he had now retreated from the flames and when he let go of it he looked at her, the striking blue of his eyes like a new morning after a long night: "It was my duty and much more than that. It was what my heart commanded me to do."

And then suddenly a dam broke inside her chest and all that she had been holding in poured out with the unbridled force of a roaring river. The cloak slid from her shoulders as she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, her hands sinking into the silken strands of his hair.

"Thank you for saving my life, for not letting me die," she muttered into his robe. " _Annon allen_." She didn't care if it was unelvish or inappropriate. She could not hold it back any longer, or else her heart might drown in the flood of unspoken words, and if he was going to attribute this outburst once again to her overemotional human side, then so be it.

It took him only a few seconds and then he closed his arms around her too, pulling her closer, his heartbeat picking up its pace as he held her tight against his chest. He might have been an ancient and stoic Elvenking, but he was still alive after all and not immune to the stirrings of the heart, if he allowed for that door to be finally reopened again.

"You are mine to protect and I will not let anything bad happen to you," he said softly.

"I have missed you so much. It was driving me insane," she mumbled into the folds of his robe and the tears wouldn't stop welling up. "I — I thought I would never see you again," she said, breaking into muffled cries.

He gently stroked her hair, his own waves of silvery gold flowing around her, and he whispered: "I would have crossed all the leagues spanning my kingdom to prevent that from happening." His voice was firm, only a slight tremble giving away how much it cost him to keep his calm.

"I'm so sorry that I broke my promise and ran away," it poured out in between sobs, her face wet with tears, "I should never have lost my faith. Forgive me, please!" His warmth and his scent enveloped her and it felt like finally being home after a long and seemingly endless journey through darkness.

"I do forgive you," he said, his hands weaving through her tangled hair and tilting her head back so she would meet his gaze. "It does not matter now. You are save. That is all that matters."

Her eyes were veiled with tears and her lower lip trembled as her chest was overflowing with feelings both frightful and joyful. He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand, wiping away her tears, his fingers so soft she thought they would melt against her skin.

And when she looked into those eyes that had captured her heart with their beauty of starlight she knew that she had been caught forever.

"I won't ever run again. I promise," she said, her voice still shaky.

"And I won't ever leave you behind again. I promise." He smiled down at her fondly. "We do have quite a bit of talking to catch up in between us, but I suggest that we move that to the comfort of a warm room. You are still under the influence of all the evil that has befallen you and I do not wish to expose you to this wintry chill longer than absolutely necessary."

She nodded, slowly emerging from her emotional roller coaster ride. "Yes, of course, warm sounds better than cold."

* * *

He let go of her rather reluctantly and after she had pulled the cloak back around her shoulders she sought to clean up her face, suddenly aware of her dishevelled appearance. She rummaged in the pockets of her tunic until she found her cherished handkerchief to wipe away those lingering tears.

A look of curiosity dawned on Thranduil's face. "Is this what I think it is?"

Anna's cheeks flushed bright red at the fact that he should know about her little secret. She had grown so accustomed to the presence of this piece of cloth that she had not thought twice about using it in front of Thranduil, but now there was a mixture of fear and embarrassment rising in her chest. What if he didn't approve of her keeping his handkerchief? His expression was impossible to read and for a moment she feared that he would consider her behaviour ridiculous. But of course trying to hide it was useless, so she lowered her gaze and said with a small voice:

"Yes, it is. I— I thought that you would not mind if I kept it." She looked up into his eyes, slightly worried of what she might find in them.

"All this time you have carried it with you?" he said, an amused smile escaping him at the pitiful state of this once pristine piece of grey cloth. It had been so worn and was sporting a considerable amount of stains which rendered it nearly unrecognisable. But of course, Thranduil would surely know what had been formerly his.

She nodded and said: "This has been the only thing I had of you while you were gone." It was probably best to go with the truth. "I am sorry if this makes me foolish in your eyes."

No trace of anger or mocking was in his voice when he said: "There is no way that I would ever consider such a gesture of loyalty foolish. I am glad it could keep you company when I could not."

A smile of relief dawned on her face and she proceeded to clean up her face with it, her lingering sobs finally ebbing away.

"But maybe we should get you a new one in the near future. One that serves its purpose better than this ghastly rag." He rose his eyebrows in feigned disgust.

"Don't call it that!" she protested. "I rather like it as it reminds me of the moment when you gave it to me." And just to be sure she quickly stuffed it back into her pocket.

"Of course, you may keep this one for as long as you wish," he said with a slight tilt of his head. "But nothing can be said against you choosing another one from my rather extensive wardrobe. I very much doubt that I will be needing all of them myself."

"In that case I thank you very much for your kind offer, although I hope that I will not need a piece of cloth to substitute your presence anytime soon."

"You will not," he said, but then his eyes fell on a small piece of crumpled paper that lay on the blanket beside her. It must have slid out when she had searched for her handkerchief. She saw it just an instant too late and when she tried to snatch it before Thranduil would get a hold of it, he had already picked it up, being infinitely quicker than Anna. This might yet take another uncomfortable turn for her. She knew exactly what this paper contained and it was not for his eyes to see.

"And what is this?" he said, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, holding the paper aloft and turning it around in his hand, making no move to let go of it any time soon.

"Could you please give it back," she said, trying to sound determined and holding out her hand. "It's private." Even though the fever might be gone, sweat began crawling all over her skin. After all it had been made quite clear to her that she was to keep this best to herself.

"Ah, another interesting discovery," he said, ignoring her plea, as he smoothed out the paper with his fingers, his eyes skimming through the narrow handwriting.

"I can explain," she rushed to get ahead of a possible interrogation. "This is—"

"Faeldir's and Amardir's poem." Thranduil finished the sentence for her.

"Yes. Wait, what? You know it?" Her mouth fell open in surprise. How could he possibly have known about this?

"Of course I do. Remember that nothing stays hidden for long from the king. They sang it for me on our journey to the Mountain. It is different from their usual style, but it is quite beautiful."

"Yes, it is," she said with a tentative smile and a lingering doubtful frown. "So you are not angry then?"

"No, why would I? The only thing I might hold against you is that you have hidden this treasure from me." He looked at her from under stern brows, but a twinkle in his eyes gave him away. She smiled slightly abashed.

"I am very sorry about that. I did not mean to hide this from you, but Faeldir and Amardir were both quite adamant about keeping this to myself, as they thought that you might not approve of it."

"Well, they thought wrong. How could I not value such a heartfelt gift they have devised for you?" He carefully folded the paper and handed it back to her with a formal nod.

She took it and stored it safely away with the handkerchief, both of her most priced possessions now not so secret any more.

"The brothers, how are they? You have not told me anything about them," it suddenly flashed through her head. "I did not even get to say good-bye to them. Are they all right?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Thranduil answered. "They are alive, which is all I wish to say about this matter now. I do not want you to worry about them."

She nodded, though not thoroughly convinced. There were so many unanswered questions tumbling through her head right now, things that would require a considerable amount of time to be told, the mountain, a battle most likely and the question of the necklace were only a few that she was burning to have answered. But this would have to wait like he had said before.

* * *

Her mind now slightly more alert, she looked around and the air was heavy with a mist that seemed to creep into her bones if it weren't for the cloak as well as the trusted fire. The greyish colours made the giant oak under which she had slept appear even more ghostly than in the dark of night, the spindly branches reaching out in awkward angles on top of her. Even the brightness of the fire had been somewhat dimmed by the faint light of dawn that seeped through the canopy of twigs. And then her eyes travelled to a neatly laid out wooden plate which she had not noticed before. Thranduil must have prepared it while she had been sleeping. It contained a loaf of bread, two slices of cheese, a handful of tiny, scarlet red berries as well as slightly larger, dark blue ones. Beside it stood two mugs full of a steaming hot liquid, which she suspected was similar to the concoction she had drunk last night.

He reached out for the bread and broke it in half, handing her her portion. "Now we will eat and I must insist that you do not skip your mealtime."

But this time she didn't need to be told. "Oh, it looks delicious," she said, gladly taking the offered food, the grumbling in her stomach reminding her with utter clarity that she still had a considerable amount of eating to catch up with.

For a while they sat silently side by side, each of them quietly munching on their frugal meal, Thranduil as always slightly more graceful and elegant than Anna, and her thoughts drifted off once again, worries beginning to overtake her recent confidence. Just a few hours ago there was nothing more that she wanted than to be back in the safety of the palace, but now suddenly things looked different. She still longed for the warmth and the comfort provided by his magnificent halls, but there was something else that crept up from the shadows of her mind. She had shared unexpected moments of intimacy here with Thranduil alone, away from everyone and everything else, and she was afraid that under the influence of protocol and everyday life this tender bond would be severed again. Buried under the routine of ruling a kingdom she might eventually sink back into the position of a guest; a visitor pushed back to the sidelines.

"You seem sad and pensive," he said, looking at her with a frown. "Is something worrying you?"

Her first reaction was to just pretend that everything was all right, but she knew that if she did not voice her concerns now it would be too late and her courage would leave her again.

"I am afraid that when we get back to the palace everything might be just the way it was before." Thranduil said nothing, but just looked at her quietly, so she went ahead. "You will be king again and have to attend to your duties and I will be your guest. And I don't know if I could bear that. Not after all this," she said, staring into the fire that was slowly burning down again, the embers glowing bright red before they would turn black and cold.

A small smile played around his mouth, but there was honesty in his words.

"I am always the king, no matter if in the forest or the palace, but that does not change in any way how I feel about you." He laid a hand on top of hers to emphasise his words. "What has grown in between us will not be cut again. I will make sure of that." He then raised her hand to his mouth, his lips barely touching her skin. "You have my word as king. I have almost lost you once and I will not let that happen again."

"Promise?" she said, her gaze fixed on his mouth still hovering above her hand, images rising in her mind of what else those lips could do if unleashed from their restraint.

"Yes, I promise. It might have taken my son's harsh words to push me in the right direction, but I will not waver from my chosen path. Of that you can be sure."

"Legolas had a hand in this?" Her eyes widened at this unexpected revelation. "You have reconciled with your son then?"

"I did, but it is a rather long story and I'm afraid we don't have time for it now either." He turned her hand around to plant another fleeting kiss on the inside of her palm, sending a pleasant tingle down her spine.

"I can wait for the details. Only to know that you have finally overcome your differences fills me with happiness." She smiled at him, a warm feeling spreading in her chest. After all, those lingering differences in between father and son had taken a toll on both of them and it could only mean that things would be better from now on. "But you have to tell me all about it!"

"Yes, I will. But now we must indeed make sure to be on our way. You need healing and rest and I do not want you to catch your death just because we lingered too long."

With those words he let go of her hand and while she finished the rest of her meal she watched him as he prepared Silvermane for the next and possibly last leg of their journey back. The tender way he treated the horse reminded her once again of how fond he had been of his elk and the empty space his death must have possibly left in his heart.

She took a sip of the herbal beverage that was delicious and spicy, filling her insides with a comfortable heat. When nearly everything was stowed away Thranduil proceeded to extinguish the fire by pouring the leftover liquid from his mug over it and the sudden drop in temperature made her shiver even under the voluminous heap of his cloak.

"Do you think you can stand up?" he asked, holding out his hands to her.

"I don't know, but I will try," she said and reached out for his hands, her knees still feeling weak like jelly. He pulled her up, supporting her back with his other arm and she nearly stumbled, her legs not yet used to carry her full weight.

"Lean on me," he said and she wrapped her arm around his waist, while he held her upright with a strong grip around her body, his cloak trailing behind her like a grey sea as she walked, and with small and measured steps she finally made it over to Silvermane. He lifted her up into the saddle and once she was seated and all set he picked up the leftover items including the blanket, leaving behind the site with only the black remnants of the fire and no other trace of their nightly camp. He hoisted himself up into the saddle behind her and then the familiar grip around her waist meant that they were ready to head out once again.

"Hold on tight," he said and she did, gripping the saddle and leaning backwards until she was flush against his chest, her heart both anxious and elated, "and if Silvermane is as swift as Odmund has praised her we shall reach the palace before nightfall."

To be continued …

Sindarin:

 _Adaneth_ \- mortal woman

 _Annon allen_ \- I thank you

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter with sweet and tender Thranduil and are looking forward to more as we follow the two of them back to the palace where I have exciting things planned. And no, this story is still far from over, so better hold on tight. *whispers* You are in for a long ride :)**

 **Stay tuned for Chapter 25^^!**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**


	26. Back Again

**A BIG thank you to the lovely people who have reviewed the previous chapter: Emperor DeLacus, thrndlwood, Irishchick (Guest), Lydwina Marie and LaBellios (Guest)! I am really grateful that you have taken the time to write those reviews!**

 **Thank you also to those who have followed and/or favourited my story!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter with Thranduil and Anna heading back to the palace...**

* * *

 _Chapter 25 - Back Again_

As much as she tried to stay awake through the rest of her journey, Anna only held out for a few hours. Her endurance, if she ever had possessed any, was nearly non existent after all she had been through in these past days. Sleepiness and exhaustion eventually got the better of her and about halfway through she must have dozed off again. Only vaguely she noticed when Thranduil carefully moved her into a more comfortable position and at some point her hands gave up their grip on the saddle altogether and she slumped backwards against his chest. The wintry cold crept into her bones despite the thick cloak and the Elvenking's firm embrace. After what resembled half an eternity the steady pace of Silvermane finally slowed down and Thranduil's voice rose her from her drowsiness.

"It will not be long now. We are almost there."

Shifting in her seat she willed her eyes open, the greyish gloom of dusk making it hard to discern anything through the impenetrable wall of trees that lined the path on either side.

"Good," she mumbled, "I almost cannot feel my limbs anymore."

"You will be able to stretch them out again soon, I promise," he said, accommodating his arm around her to keep her in a steady position during those last moments of their journey.

She squinted into the darkening pathway ahead and far off in the distance where the trees seemed to shy away from each other they now opened up the view for the familiar outline of the palace gates and not long after, the bridge spanning the forest river came into sight. Despite her earlier reservations against returning to the palace, she could not have been happier at the prospect of finally being able to exchange the confines of a horse-back for the comfort of a warm bed. Thranduil brought Silvermane into a slow trot and the layers of snow that had accumulated on the bridge muffled her steps as they approached the gates of the palace.

"Welcome back," Thranduil whispered and Silvermane neighed contentedly, as if in happy anticipation of well-earned food and rest.

When the heavy stone doors were pulled open a sudden wave of noise flooded her ears and her eyes were blinded by the dim amber light of Mirkwood's halls, which seemed just like brilliant daylight after so many days of darkness in the forest. Everything had been prepared for their impending arrival, servants and guards swarming busily to their side, but Thranduil wouldn't let go of her, ignoring the strange looks as well as the stretcher that had been made ready and simply proceeded to carry her to her room in his arms. Only that he did not halt at what was unmistakably the door to her room. She stirred in his hold, a confused look on her face.

"I—, I think we just passed my room."

"I know," he said. "That is because you will be getting a new room, a more spacious one and adjacent to my chambers as well. Everything has been already arranged accordingly."

"Thank you, that's very thoughtful of you." She snuggled her head against the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent and soaking in his warmth. Who knew for how long she would be able to have him so close to her once he was caught up again in the palace's daily routine, so she made sure to savour every second of being in his arms, even if it was just a healer carrying his patient.

A faint golden light emerged from a room at the end of the hallway and the regally adorned oaken door right beside Thranduil's chambers had been already pulled open to receive her and the king. A chatter of voices filled the chamber and when Thranduil finally laid her down in the bed which had been prepared, more eyes than she felt comfortable with were trying to get a good look at her. Some faces were familiar, servants and healers that she had grown accustomed to see during her stay in the palace. Still she had rather not them all staring at her like she was some sort of strange creature the king had rescued from the forest's fangs. But at least everyone maintained a respectful distance while craning their necks, until Thranduil would be finished accommodating her.

"There you go," he said with a satisfied smile, pulling the covers into place and tucking her in. She sank back into the pillows, the linens so incredibly soft that she had to resist the temptation of drifting off into sleep right away. Thranduil then turned to Brethilwen, who had rushed to his side and who would, so it seemed, oversee her treatment.

"Make sure she gets all the attention she needs. I have tended to her wounds already, but they will have to be taken care of consistently to make sure she will recover fully. You will find that there has been a severe cut on her left shoulder as well as a deep sting caused by a spider on her lower back. She has evaded death by just a hair and her body will need considerable time to heal."

"Yes, of course, my lord." Brethilwen swallowed, her eyes wide and her face slightly paler than the usual as Thranduil's words and Anna's pitiful appearance painted one horrible image in her head.

With a distinct layer of pride in his voice Thranduil added: "But she has been exceptionally brave and I am sure that in due time she will be just her former self again." He looked at Anna with an encouraging smile, but she only managed a weak one in return, her body still exhausted and in dire need of sleep and rest. He bent down to her, his fingers grazing over her cheek. "There are a few things that I must see to now, but you are in capable hands and I promise you that I will be back as soon as I can."

She clutched at his hand maybe a little too fierce, suddenly afraid of losing him again. "You promise that you will be back, won't you?"

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, I do. I have not forgotten my words from this morning. I just think that you will want a little privacy to refresh yourself, and eat and allow Brethilwen to take a look at your injuries. And before you know it I will be back here with you."

His confident words dispelled her concerns and when he turned to leave, she willed herself to focus on the necessary procedures that lay now before her.

* * *

"My dear girl, what have you been up to?" Brethilwen's inquiring gaze left no room for the pondering sadness of hers and it was more than clear that she was expecting a full recollection of Anna's adventures. Without waiting for an answer Brethilwen sat down by her side and tucked strands of her unkempt hair behind her ears and then Brethilwen shook her head and pulled Anna into a tight embrace, whispering into her hair. "I'm glad that you are back alive!"

She hugged her back, muttering: "I'm glad too!" And for a short moment all the tension she had been harbouring inside disappeared in her near motherly embrace and she found herself clinging to Brethilwen like a child that had been lost and was finally back home again.

"I've gotten myself into such a mess!" she said, burying her face in her shoulder, fighting against the rising tears. "Thinking that I could cross the whole of Mirkwood on my own was the most foolish thing ever and if the king hadn't found me, I surely would be dead by now."

"I never had the slightest of doubts that he would find you and I will want to hear every little detail about said mess," she said as she released Anna from her hold, a mixture of relief and worry in her grey eyes. "But all in due time."

Brethilwen took a good look at her and said with a satisfied nod: "It pleases me to know that the king has been so diligent in attending to your injuries, but as you have heard I will need to see them nevertheless to make sure nothing goes unnoticed."

Anna nodded obediently. "Yes, of course, I understand."

"Good!" She rose from the bed in a business-like fashion, straightening her tunic, and directing her attention now to the servants and healers still waiting beside the bed. "But first we will get you cleaned up and put you in some fresh clothes, all right?"

At Brethilwen's command the elves all fell into a collective shuffling around with jars and flasks and many more items with their purpose not yet revealed to Anna, ready to attend to her every remaining bruise when suddenly the far end corner of the room came into view. There a small circular pool had been carved into the stone, spring-fed by a placidly murmuring fountain on the wall. Delicately carved vines wound themselves along the edges and a comfortable selection of cushions and rugs had been placed invitingly around it. Star shaped flowers in yellow and white cascaded from small baskets along the wall, some of their trails so long that the slender green strands dipped into the water, swaying rhythmically like elegant dancers in the lazy current. A beautiful lantern hung from the ceiling and illuminated the middle of the pool, the glittering surface gleaming in a nearly surreal greenish golden light. It was like being in the midst of a forest, peaceful and tranquil, a perfect repose for the weary of mind and body. It was much smaller than the one in Thranduil's chambers, but what it lacked in size it made up for in charm. It breathed the same serenity as the Queen's hideaway in the library and the intimate aura instantly won her heart.

"Yes, that's yours to use at any time," Brethilwen said with a smile. The eager look on Anna's face must have been all too obvious. "If you wish to take a bath first, which I assume you might want to, I will send the others out for the time being, but I must insist to remain by your side; just as a measure of precaution. Agreed?"

"Yes, agreed," she nodded her approval. This beautiful oasis was just too tempting to refuse, after all her body was craving a bath and her sore muscles would surely benefit from the warm waves lapping at her skin. With a small flick of her hand Brethilwen ushered everyone else out, many eyes still curiously clinging to Anna's dishevelled appearance and after some rustling and shuffling she and Brethilwen were the only ones remaining. While she began the preparation for the bath, Anna allowed her gaze to roam around the room now that she could do so freely.

It was an ample chamber with the same beautiful columns to resemble trees found in all of Thranduil's palace. The shape was quite irregular, with some areas still hidden from her view due to the limited angle she had from her bed. If she listened closely there was another sound weaving itself into the water's constant murmuring, a distinct crackling that must pertain to a fireplace, providing the room with a comfortable warmth. And one glance around revealed beautifully crafted furniture, every single piece fashioned of dark wood so much more lavish than in her old room. There were several tables of different sizes, matching chairs and comfortably cushioned benches. On the wall leading to the pool hung a large tapestry depicting in detailed embroidery a white stag standing proudly in the middle of a peaceful glade, its majestic head reared up with impressive antlers growing upwards like snow white boughs, the glow surrounding it nearly unreal in its brightness. Tall trees heavily laden with leaves bowed their branches and the animals of the forest looked up to their guardian. Colourful flowers and vines framed this peaceful scene. A small smile played around her lips. Even if Thranduil was not in this room, his spirit would always be present. And then there was yet another interesting discovery. In a small alcove stood a book-shelf, delicately shaped like those in the restricted area of the library and to her delight it was fully packed with a variety of leather-bound volumes both big and small, promising to be a much needed distraction in those possibly long days she might be bound to the confines of her room during her convalescence.

"My dear, the bath is ready." Brethilwen's soft voice put a sudden halt to her wandering eyes and trailing thoughts.

"Yes, of course," she said, quickly taking the offered hand to help her rise from the bed. "I was just admiring my new room. It is really beautiful and so lovingly decorated."

"It is indeed. It is a shame that it has been empty for so long, but I am very glad that it is being filled with new life once again."

She smiled kindly at Anna, wrapping an arm about her waist to make sure her first attempt to get up would not end prematurely on the floor.

"Do not rush. We have all the time in the world."

And Brethilwen's support was dearly needed as her knees threatened to give in all too soon and her head was spinning so much she feared to tumble backwards into bed.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" she said, casting Anna a doubtful look. "Maybe you would like to rest first?"

"No, I really wish to take a bath now," she said with as much determination as she could muster. Her whole body felt like it was encrusted with a layer of dirt, sweat and blood, and she did not even want to take a look at her hair that felt like a matted piece of fur every time she tried to run her fingers through it. No, she needed to wash off all the visual signs that remained of the horrors she had encountered.

"All right then," Brethilwen tightened her grip around Anna's hand and waist. "I am sure that if you were able to make it through all those turmoils in the forest you will make it across the room and you will see that the water will instantly work wonders on your body."

And she could not have been more right!

Once she had shed all her clothes, resembling more rags than something decent to wear, and had slid into the water with Brethilwen's help, she was caught in a different world. She was grateful for the marvellous engineers that the elves of Mirkwood truly must be for filling their pools with either hot or cold water depending on the season or ones personal preferences. Whatever ingenious inventions worked their magic underground, it was a blessing for her body. After winter's merciless frost she was now floating weightlessly in the most heavenly liquid filled with delightful fragrances, reviving and relaxing her body with soothing waves and alluring scents. The dull pain radiating from the sting as well as the cut on her left shoulder were dissolving and the tension in her muscles melted away as her limbs were carried by the water's steady current. Vapour rose from the rippling surface, settling in tiny glittering beads on her face and when she tilted her head back her hair fanned out under the surface like softly swaying sea weeds. Brethilwen sat behind her and an array of flasks and jars as well as a neat pile of linens and wash cloths beside her promised Anna a royal treatment for all her senses.

"So, let us begin," she said and picked up one of the wash cloths, dipping it into the water and adding some drops of scented oil to it. Anna closed her eyes and sank backwards, while Brethilwen's hands skilfully worked their way from her neck sideways in swift strokes.

It was perfect. The only way this divine bliss could have been even better was if Thranduil himself had been the one attending to her. At one moment she began to imagine his hands drawing delicate circles on her back, passing the wash cloth along her shoulder and the tender skin on her chest with gentle but determined strokes. His name was on her lips, like a whisper in the wind, and goosebumps rolled over her flesh at the thoughts dancing through her head. But before her mind would wander any further, soaring up into the apparently endless skies of her imagination, she reeled it in, pulling it back to the present, determined to appreciate the dedication Brethilwen was putting into her work. She did not want to lose herself in daydreams, even though Thranduil had been quite clear about his feelings for her. There were still a good many obstacles to overcome, her unknown past being only one of them and her being human an equally difficult one. She still did not know how all this would fit into their newly unfolding relationship. With a sigh she sank deeper into the water trying to clear her head of all worries at least for the time being.

She was so spent that she barely had any recollection of what had happened after the bath. Her senses had been calmed to a point where it seemed to her that she was in a near trancelike state. A blur of voices and fleeting touches were all she could remember before she sank back into the shadows of her dreams. The only thing she knew was that when she opened her eyes again, she was back in her bed, her wounds had been tended to, she had been dressed in a simple yet delightfully fresh nightgown and her hair fell in silky waves around her head and onto her pillow. A sudden draft on her feet had awoken her from her slumber. She must have shifted around quite vigorously in her sleep as she found the sheets all messed up and barely covering half of her body. With one determined pull she brought them back where they belonged, but now that she was awake she could not get back to sleep anymore. The room was quiet except for the murmuring and crackling sounds and it seemed that everyone had indeed left. It was impossible to tell if it was at night or already in the morning as the lanterns and chandeliers still emitted the same amber light. She turned around and nearly dropped the covers again when she realised that she was not alone after all.

* * *

Thranduil was sitting in a chair beside her bed, although that by itself was not the even most remarkable thing about it, but rather the fact that he seemed to be veritably asleep, which was most unusual. It was a state in which she had never seen him before, but there could scarcely be a doubt about it, as his head had fallen against the backrest and although his eyes were only half-closed, he was completely motionless. She knew that elves did not need to sleep in a way humans did, but apparently once in a while they could also succumb to exhaustion. He probably had not given himself any rest and had come to see her like he had promised, only to have found her asleep already. And like the gentleman he was, he simply must have decided to wait for her to wake up again. Only that she hadn't awoken any time soon and apparently had instead slept through the entire night. And, well there he was, such a beautiful and candid sight to behold that she could not take her eyes off him.

He had exchanged his grey robe for a different one in a shade of mossy green with interlacing golden threads, the shimmering surface reminding her somewhat distantly of scales. It was impeccably fitted as always, a row of neatly aligned ivory clasps running up the middle. The tight cream coloured breeches, contrasting pleasantly in their simplicity with the exquisite robe, were tucked into dark brown knee high leather boots. Thranduil sat with his legs crossed, one arm casually draped on the armrest while the other rested in his lap.

To her surprise he wore no circlet or crown and there was only a single ring on his fingers. It was a ring she was quite sure that she had not seen him use before, although to the best of her knowledge he most likely had a vast collection of jewellery to choose from and she might have seen only a fraction of what his extensive vaults had to offer. Still, her gaze lingered with curiosity as it was different from the others, much simpler and smaller, no enormous gems or flashy designs, but just a plain silver ring with a small circular white gemstone shaped into something that resembled strongly a minute flower, the delicate petals opening up like a tiny sun. His hand was so close that she only needed to stretch out her own from under the sheets to touch it. Her eyes darted quickly back to his face, but he was as still as before, allowing her to indulge just a little more in her covert admiration. She slowly extended her fingers from beneath the cover towards his, her eyes mesmerised by their graceful elegance and near pearlescent whiteness. Even closer she inched, biting her lower lip as she held her breath, only hesitating when her fingertips almost touched his and then she hovered for a while undecidedly, the warmth radiating from his skin sending her heartbeat into a wild frenzy until her courage suddenly left her again and her hand began to sink and retreat.

"Don't pull away," he said. With a swift grip Thranduil had taken her hand in his and when she looked up to him, there was a smile on his face.

"I—I'm sorry," she said, blushing furiously, "I thought that you were asleep." She had been so enraptured in her silent adoration that she had failed to notice when he had actually awoken. Or maybe he had not been asleep after all? For how long he had been already watching her and the strange spectacle she surely must have presented to his eyes she did not know. She just wished that the sheets might swallow her temporarily to hide her embarrassment, but his smile was so disarming that she couldn't help but reciprocate it.

"I may have appeared to be, but I was only resting until you would wake up, which I am glad to see, you have now." He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it lightly, a pleasurable tingle rushing through her veins. "I hope that you have slept well and everything has been to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, it has. The pool is amazing, just like everything in this room!" She was barely able to contain her delight about all the wonderful things this place seemed to hold in store for her. "Thank you again for your kindness to allow me to stay in such a beautiful chamber."

"You are very welcome," he said, running his thumbs over her fingers while his eyes lingered on her face. "I want you to feel at home here and I daresay that this room will be a good start." Leaning forward he said: "And now that we are both undoubtedly awake I will have us brought some food and then we can finally share a moment of hopefully uninterrupted conversation in a comfortably warm surrounding."

As if by magic a servant slipped quietly into the room, carrying a tray with the most delicious assortment of fruits, loafs of bread in varying shapes, slices of ham and cheese as well as two glasses and a carafe with an amber liquid that did not look like wine, something for which she was grateful, as her stomach did not feel ready for alcohol, at least not at this early hour of the day. The servant placed the tray on the bedside table, not without a curious sideways glance in her direction, and with a curt bow towards Thranduil he said:

"Will there be anything else you need, my lord?"

"No, thank you. That will be all for now." Thranduil gave him a small nod and the elf retreated with another bow.

Propped up comfortably in bed, with soft sheets covering her and a fluffy pillow stuffed behind her back it seemed almost surreal that only two days ago she was in the middle of a merciless battle with giant spiders. And then her stomach reminded her of the fact that she must have skipped dinner last night, so she reached out for the tray and began eagerly munching on a small bun of bread while the questions were piling up in her head. Thranduil did not seem in a hurry to eat, he rather leaned back in the chair and watched her with an amused look on his face.

"Sorry," she said, suddenly aware that she was the only one eating. "I did not eat last night and I'm really hungry."

"That is what the food is for. So please enjoy," he said, folding his hands in his lap and for a moment his eyes travelled around the room and there was a strange glance in them when his gaze returned to her again.

And then the questions tumbled from her mouth: "What about the Mountain? Was there a battle indeed? You must tell me everything about it! Were there any orcs? And Legolas, you promised to tell me about him too! And Amardir and Faeldir! I need to know if they are all right!"

A chuckle escaped Thranduil and she blushed, suddenly conscious that she must have sounded like a demanding child that was all too eager to hear extensive recollections of adventures.

"All in due time, my dear. I promise you to satisfy your curiosity and provide you with as much detail as I can."

"Yes, of course. And I promise that I will be patient."

Anna pulled her legs up under her knees and followed with bated breath Thranduil's tales of fierce battles, a city burnt to ashes, strange beasts and dark armies, valiant soldiers and a son believed lost now found again. Minutes must have stretched into hours, the tray gradually being depleted of food, and Thranduil seemed to be quite enjoying himself, his face displaying a rare relaxed mood. This was the moment she needed as there was still one particular question she had been burning to ask him and which he had not touched yet. They had been engaged in an animated conversation, when he noticed her tensing expression.

"Has something that I said unsettled you? You seem suddenly quiet."

She hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity got the better of her. "There is something else I have been meaning to ask you."

"Well, then don't hold back and ask away. Now is the moment," he said, leaning back in his chair, his fingers absentmindedly toying with one of the clasps of his robe.

"Were you able to reclaim your w—, the necklace you wanted?" She couldn't bring herself to mention his wife, not after that precious bit of closeness she had just recently gained towards him.

For a moment Thranduil's face went still like a frozen lake, his blue eyes boring into hers and she feared that she had crossed that invisible line she had once had the nerve to overstep. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to be nosy. I just —," she broke off, searching for but not finding the words she wanted to say.

Whatever it was she had stirred up inside him, he had quickly pushed it back, his face returning to the former calm surface.

"In fact the answer to your question is both yes and no."

"Oh," was all she said, as this was somehow not the answer that she was expecting. "I am not quite sure I understand?"

He shifted for a moment in the seat as if he were thinking on how to best clothe his thoughts in words.

"When I headed out towards _Amon Ereb_ my mind was set on reclaiming this beautiful piece of jewellery, something I have dearly longed for and which has been withheld from me for far too long. But I realised that I have been chasing after a ghost, like my son has pointed out so eloquently to me: bringing home the necklace will not bring my wife back." He leaned forward, his eyes trailing over her face as if he wanted to make sure that his words would not cause her any unnecessary unrest. "She is gone from this world and even if she were to choose to be reborn, her path would not lead her back to the lands of Middle-earth, but she would wish to remain on the shores of Valinor."

She nodded slowly, trying to make sense of his explanation. "But that means you might still see her again, whenever you decide to leave this place behind."

"Which I will not," he said with determination in his voice, his glance suddenly stern.

"Y—you will not? Not sail west, you mean? I thought that was expected of all your kin. I mean, at least that is what reading in your books has led me to believe."

"That may be true for many, but not all of us feel the pull to go to a place we have never laid our eyes upon. I was born in these lands and the forest of _Eryn Galen_ is where my heart has taken root and I only wish for its former beauty to be restored." His eyes took on a veiled gleam as his mind drifted back to the days of old. "I wish you could have seen with your own eyes the beauty of the forest the way it used to be. It was nothing like the crooked and gloomy woods you have come to know. Everything was fresh, green and full of light and I used to wander through the endless pathways at my leisure, listening to the trees as they were little saplings and teaching them our elven ways, weaving my wisdom into their buds and watching them grow until they in turn would sing their songs for me."

The way he spoke of the forest was an almost tender one, like a lover speaking of his beloved or a father of his child and she thought for the first time that his heart might not belong neither to an elf nor a human, but to the world he lived in and the forest's embrace was the one he longed for in the end. The strange thing was that this was a rather comforting thought and it did not upset her in the least. It seemed the natural way of things for an Elvenking who over time became more and more one with the place that was his home. Like a tree whose roots were not touched by the frost and whose branches were not swayed even by the strongest of winds. It was a wish she suddenly hoped would eventually come true for the burdened Elvenking.

"Do you think the darkness will ever leave the forest?" she asked, cutting tentatively through the silence.

"Yes, it will. It might not be anytime soon, but no evil does last forever. And then this forest will be as beautiful as it was before or even more so." His face lighted up at the prospect of new life returning to these lands and for a moment all burden seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders and she could imagine him strolling beneath the sunlit canopy of gold and green like a young elfling.

"But now let us get back to your original question: the necklace," he said, taking a sip from the glass before putting it back on the table. "I did not return home empty-handed after all as I stumbled upon someone who holds you in high esteem." A mischievous smile dawned on his face as he reached into his robe.

"Who would hold me in high esteem? I do not know anyone in Dale," she said with a frown.

"You may not, but he certainly does know you and he wanted to make sure that he would somehow show you his gratitude for your hospitality in case he would not be able to do so in person."

Her eyes widened when the sudden realisation dawned upon her. "Bilbo! You met Bilbo Baggins! So he is alive after all!"

"Yes, he is alive and well," Thranduil said with a smile and then her eyes were drawn to the delicate pearls he had pulled from his pocket. "And he wishes to bestow this necklace as gift to you."

"But, I cannot—," she stuttered as he unfolded the string of white pearls in between his hands.

"Yes, you can," Thranduil interrupted her with determination. "I will not have you refuse this gift. This is for you and you deserve to have it."

"Thank you, but still, this is much too valuable and I do not usually wear any jewellery." She was more than flustered at being presented with such an exquisit gift.

"Well, then it is a good time that we start changing that. I am sure that you will look lovely wearing this."

And with those words he leaned closer and before she could say anything else he had slung the row of smooth orbs around her neck, his fingers busying themselves with the delicate clasp. His hands so soft and the pearls so cold made pinpricks dance on her skin and then her own hand shot towards the necklace, her fingertips gliding over the neatly rounded pearls as if to make sure they were indeed real.

"Now turn around and let me look at you," he said and she did as she was bidden, a timid smile on her lips.

"Beautiful!" he said, his eyes sparkling in delight. "Those pearls are a perfect match for you. I must say, this Master Baggins does have an exquisite taste. Now the only thing missing is a dress to complement this piece of jewellery."

"But I don't think I need an elegant dress while I'm still bound to this bed." This was all of a sudden going at a much faster pace than what she had anticipated.

"No, you don't, but there is no harm in thinking about the future. I am sure that you will be recovering swiftly and will soon be leaving this bed behind." Thranduil suddenly rose from his chair with a renewed bout of energy. "I will inform Brethilwen to make sure she lays out a nice dress for you when the time is right." He leaned with his folded arms against the chair's backrest. "And then you will have dinner with me in my chambers. I would be honoured if you were to grace me with your presence."

"Yes, of course," she said, barely being able to hide the big grin that spread on her face. "The honour would be all mine."

"Very well then. So that is settled." He took her hands in his to plant a tender kiss on them. "I must take my leave now as I am expecting messengers from Dale and there are numerous other matters that require my attention, but I will make sure to send Brethilwen to keep you company and I promise that I will be back before the sun sets."

"You spoil me," she whispered, her heart going out to him like a flower to the sun.

"Then let me do so. I have not had someone to spoil in a very long time."

There was nothing she could say against that, so she only smiled and her eyes followed him as he strode from the room, his robe gleaming iridescently in the twilight with every single one of his graceful steps.

To be continued …

Sindarin:

 _Amon Ereb_ \- Erebor

 _Eryn Galen_ \- Greenwood the Great

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Thank you for reading and I hope you have enjoyed this sweet and relaxing chapter with Thranduil and Anna back in the palace, all cosy and warm :), but you better buckle up for the next chapter as this is a pivotal one with some exciting stuff happening!**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very welcome! Thank you folks :D**

 **Stay tuned for Chapter 26^^!**


	27. Things Unspoken

**A BIG thank you to the two lovely people who have reviewed the preceding chapter: thrndlwood and Averlovi! And also thank you to everyone who has favourited or followed this story. I really appreciate all your support!**

 **Onwards then to the next chapter, hold on tight, as this is going to be an exciting one...**

* * *

 _Chapter 26 - Things Unspoken_

 _If the right words exist, may they find our lips._

(Sleeping At Last: Resolve.)

Anna's days slowly melted into an indistinguishable molasses of repeating routines dictated by her medical treatment. Her nights were dreamless and empty and she suspected that whatever concoction she was given to heal her wounds and strengthen her body also made sure that her sleep would be deep and undisturbed. This was something she was truly grateful for, since she suspected that her dreams would have most likely been populated by hairy spiders and scorching fires, unnecessary obstacles on her way to convalescence. She tried very much to be a good and obedient patient, which was not all too difficult at the beginning, but her initial fondness of the bed that had welcomed her with its soft covers soon turned into an ardent wish to finally be able to leave those imprisoning sheets behind. She had to admit that her body still felt considerably weak, as if some insistent magic was siphoning off the strength she gradually regained. Nevertheless she was slowly improving day by day, thanks to the combined efforts and comprehensive supervision of Thranduil and Brethilwen, whom she had gotten to value as competent healers in the recent past.

When even after a near fortnight Anna was still only allowed to leave the bed for mere minutes so she could attend to her bodily needs, she was ready for what felt like a small rebellion. Every time she had tried her luck, hoping to wrest either from Brethilwen or Thranduil the permission to at least wander around freely in her room, her pleas had gone unheeded. Always had she been presented with the near identical rigorous glance and stern nod, accompanied by several ironclad reasons why she was not yet fit to leave her sickbed. Obviously in elven terms a few weeks bound to the bed were considered just a minor setback in their lives that were devoid of an expected ending. But Anna was starting to get antsy, she wanted to stretch her legs and move her limbs, be able to explore all those beautiful things her chamber had to offer.

The permanent attention of servants and healers and their near constant presence left her also with little to no privacy. Only when Thranduil wished to see her alone, the room took on the intimate aura of a quiet repose she loved so much about it. His daily visits to her room were the peak moments of her day and no matter how busy or how tired he might have been, he made sure to come and see her. And after she had read through all the books from her bookshelf he had made a habit out of supplying Anna with a new book for her to read every time he would visit her and sure enough when he came to see her on a particularly frosty winter morning he had another volume bound in midnight blue leather clutched under his arm as well as a rectangular wooden box. He entered Anna's room with energetic strides and when he found her already awake he pulled up his usual chair beside her bed and made himself comfortable, his legs languidly crossed and his long fingers elegantly wrapped around the book and the box, both resting on his lap.

"Good morning, my dear," he said, greeting Anna with a nonchalant smile. "So, how is my favourite patient today?"

Her lips curved into a sweet smile as she propped herself up further, flattening the covers as she did. "Good morning, my king," she said, "I am fine, thank you. After all, I'm well looked after." She absentmindedly brushed some breadcrumbs off her covers, irksome remnants of her breakfast that otherwise would later sneak stealthily under her nightshirt, converting her bed into a minefield of small but annoying hazards, intent on making the stay in her bed even more uncomfortable. She interrupted her motions with a frown when she felt his gaze lingering on her.

"As much as I enjoy my bed there is a downside to be taking my meals in here," she explained, holding up one tiny crumb in between her fingers with an indignant glare. "I swear these things multiply in between my sheets if I don't brush them off immediately!" She flicked the crumb away as if it were a despicable criminal.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile twitching around the corners of his mouth while he silently enjoyed the sight of Anna wrinkling her freckled nose in annoyance.

"I see now that there is an imperative need for you to be allowed out of bed for your mealtimes. I shall instruct Brethilwen to serve you at the table from now on lest she wishes to incur your wrath and mine."

He had lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and Anna couldn't help but smile at the boyish grin he displayed, so very unlike his usual rigid self. She nodded contentedly, as this would be at least a small improvement to her situation, but her woes were not quite sorted out yet. Twisting one of the tiny white buttons of her nightgown in between her fingers she said: "I am sorry if I must appear impatient, but could I not at least be allowed to get up and walk around my room? I haven't even been able to see all the beautiful things this chamber has to offer. And I also don't think that I need constant supervision from the healers and servants. I do feel much better already and I doubt that staying in bed is absolutely necessary to improve my health."

Thranduil sighed, his playfulness swiftly hidden behind the aura of duty and concern. "You know that we have been going over this every time I come to visit you and you know already what my answer will be."

He fixed Anna with one of his piercing glances which would usually have put a brusque end to her objections; but not today. Today she would not let herself be silenced by stern glances and rigorous words. She was a grown woman after all, not a little girl, quite capable of taking her own decisions, or so she thought.

"Yes, I know and I don't want to sound ungrateful. I appreciate all the care I am receiving, but I am beginning to feel like a prisoner in my own bed." With an overly melodramatic sigh she sank back into the pillows, but Thranduil would not be so easily swayed.

"I am sorry that you feel like that, but I assure you that it will not be long now until you can leave behind the confines of your bed and maybe even this chamber. Brethilwen tells me she is very satisfied with your progress and she might even soon allow you to walk with me around the hallways."

"But you are the king! You can allow me to get up. You don't need anyone's permission!" she insisted as she flicked another breadcrumb from her bed with a deadly glare that could almost rival the Elvenking's.

"You are quite right. I do not need anyone's permission. But I am also a healer and so is Brethilwen and since I hold her judgement in high esteem I will not override her decision just because you are being impatient."

Anna rolled her eyes, putting on a grim face and muttering something of 'unfair' and 'endless' under her breath, but she knew already that she was getting nowhere with her complaints. Obviously the Elvenking was not only much more versed in fighting an argument, but he also had reason and prudence on his side, while she had only impatience and rashness to speak for herself.

"Don't give me that sour look," Thranduil said, tilting his head sideways as if he was talking to an unreasonable child. "You know that this is only for your own good. I do not wish to compromise your health. Your injuries were severe and a few weeks are nothing in comparison to the rest of your lifetime."

"In comparison to your lifetime maybe," she grumbled, feeling downcast and glum, "but my days are surely numbered."

A sorrowful glance flickered across Thranduil's face. "Please, do not feel so dejected. It is only a necessary precaution. I simply want to make sure you will be all right."

"Yes, I know," she said with a resigned sigh, absentmindedly tugging at the corner of her pillow. "I am sorry. I did not mean it like that. I know you only have the best intentions and I promise that I will try to be more patient."

Anna put on a propitiatory smile and shifted sideways, trying to get a look at the book Thranduil had brought with him. Maybe this would take her mind off her curtailed freedom.

"I see that you have spied this already," he said with a look of relief on his face, obviously glad to detour the conversation away from more possible complaints about the restrictions that have been laid upon her. He pulled out the book as well as the box from the folds of his cloak, placing the box on the bedside table.

"I thought you might like this," he said, holding the book up and without any further ado he let it slide into Anna's welcoming hands. Her curiosity was immediately stirred up as this one felt different from the others. It was neither ancient nor did it show any signs of usage. Actually it seemed to be completely new. She bent eagerly over her present, biting her lower lip in excitement. It was diligently bound in smooth midnight blue leather, heavy and simple looking, with no lettering to be found on neither the cover nor the spine. As a matter of fact the only adornment was a delicate circular flower in white and gold embossed on the book-cover. She slowly turned it around in her hands, and when she finally opened it, she saw her suspicion confirmed: the pages were completely blank. She thumbed through it, feeling the slightly rough surface of the untouched pages in between her fingers, a vast sea of emptiness longing to be filled with an ocean of words. Instinctively she brought it to her nose, the scent of new leather and fresh parchment evoking distant memories of times long gone, something she couldn't quite put her finger on yet. She peered at Thranduil over the edge of the book and then her eyes darted over to the wooden box on her bedside table, anticipation dawning on her face like the rising morning sun.

Thranduil had leaned back in his chair, all the while observing her with a thorough display of satisfaction on his face. "Now open this," he said, pushing the wooden box towards her with his fingertips.

She shot him a quick glance, and when he nodded encouragingly she reached out for the rectangular case. It was of a rich dark brown colour, the surface smooth and expertly varnished, relatively plain though in comparison with the elaborate designs to be found in every nook and corner of Thranduil's palace. Her fingers traced the engraving of a small flower and then she clicked the golden lock open with her thumb. Nestled on a lining of dark green silk lay an elegant quill and a small ink jar. A small gasp of awe escaped her at the delicate beauty of the pristine white feather quill. Her cheeks were flushed as images began to rise in her head and slowly turned to words, growing into sentences that extended into paragraphs eager to find a new home on those snow white pages.

"Do you like it?" Thranduil's voice suddenly broke through the figments of her imagination.

She had been so involved in her thoughts she had almost forgotten that Thranduil was still sitting beside her bed and when she looked at him, her whole face was glowing.

"Like it?" she said, her eyes sparkling. "I love it. This is the best gift I have ever received."

"Better than the necklace?" he asked her half teasingly.

"Yes," she nodded, her face suddenly turning serious. "Please, don't misunderstand this. I do love the necklace. It is very beautiful, but it is only made of lifeless gems after all. But this," she pressed the book against her chest, "this will be filled with life when I'm done with it, you'll see."

"I see," he nodded knowingly, "so you prefer books over jewels."

"I do indeed, as they are able to contain a whole world in between those covers, moments of joy and sadness alike, a lifetime in letters." She placed the book back on her lap, patting it lovingly. "Books are the real treasures, not gems."

"Then I am very glad that I have made the right choice," he said, smiling broadly.

"You did and I am truly grateful for such a thoughtful gift." For a moment she sat in silence, admiring the box and its contents when a thought flitted through her mind. "But how did you guess that I would like this?"

Thranduil did not answer immediately, but rather seemed to be preparing himself for something that he had rehearsed numerous times in his mind.

"I remember very well that first day I found you in the forest, when you said that you wrote books, children's books to be precise. I know that some of the things you told me might not have been the truth, but this was not a lie."

"You still remember what I said to you under the tree?" she said, her eyes widening in amazement.

"Every single word."

"Then you remember a great deal more than me." She closed the wooden box with a sigh, being suddenly sorely reminded of all the things she did not know. She remembered clearly the way he had looked at her, the intensity of his gaze forever etched in her mind, but everything else had been pushed into an area of impenetrable shadows, apparently never to see the light of day again. Her past was still one overhanging cloud so dense and ominous that not even the dream during her search for Thranduil had been able to disperse it. And as much as she might have tried to avoid this subject, it kept nagging and bothering her, like an inquisitive neighbour that would not stop asking the same nosy questions over and over again, no matter how much she would try to cover her ears.

"I have been here for many months and I am still no closer to finding out who I really am," she finally said, the joyful sparkle in her eyes gone.

"You are here with me now. Is that not enough?" A fleeting shadow darkened his face as he searched her eyes.

"Yes, it is, but at the same time it is not." She pulled up her knees and only the steady purling of the small fountain filled the air as her eyes trailed around the room, lingering for a moment on the tapestry with the stag before she returned his gaze to him. A strange glow was in his eyes, eyes that searched her soul with the effortless ease of someone who had lived the lifespan of a thousand humans.

"I think that what you are looking for lies not in your past, but you will find it in your future."

"But how can I even have a future if I do not have a past? How can I stay here with you if I don't know who I am? And how can you want me to be with you if you don't know anything about me?" she said, throwing her arms around her knees trying to contain her rising despair.

"I have eyes to see and a heart to feel and I know that I can trust both." He slid forward to the edge of the chair, the warmth of his body radiating so close to hers that she had trouble hanging on to her thoughts. But the icy torrent of despair flooding her heart had reached breaking point and brimmed over in a sudden wave of anguish.

"But I cannot even remember my name! I don't want to spend the rest of my life as a nameless woman." She shook her head, raking her fingers through her hair in frustration, unable to stop the mighty torrent that threatened to drown her from within. "A— and how did I come here? And where was I before?" She stared at him as if she was hoping to find her past somewhere hidden in those blue depths. "I need answers to those questions before I can move on. I have been trying to pretend that it would not matter, but it is an illusion and not a day has gone by where I do not ask myself those things again and again." She buried her face in her hands as the entire weight of unresolved issues that were her life pulled her into a dark abyss.

Thranduil's face had turned a shade paler, his lips tightly pressed together in an effort to remain calm and not to let himself be swept away by Anna's emotional storm. He suddenly leaned forward in an impulsive motion and reached for her hands, lacing his fingers through hers and his eyes studying the pattern of their intertwined fingers.

"I know that you seek answers to your questions and I am sorry that there is only so much that I can give you," he said, the warmth of his hands flowing into hers that had gone cold and clammy. He exhaled slowly as if he was trying to weigh his options and then he looked at her again, an unmistakable strain on his face as he spoke:

"Much of your past and your whereabouts remain shrouded in mystery, but I can tell you that the tree under which I found you is not just any tree. It is as old as the forest itself and its roots reach deeper than that of any other. It has seen even more passings of seasons than I have. Strange things are said to happen around it and people have been said to disappear if they got too close to it. In some rare cases it has even been told that it might uproot the laws of space and time, allowing for a passage that would otherwise be impossible and prohibited."

Anna stared at him open-mouthed as she was trying to make sense of his words. "S—so, you are telling me that I came through the tree?"

"If you want to put it in such direct words: yes."

"But this is not possible! Where does this tree lead to? There has to be another side to it, another exit! I must have come from somewhere! I cannot just have materialised out of thin air!"

Her fingers trembled in his hold and for a moment she stared fearfully at her surroundings as if she expected everything around her to suddenly disappear, vanishing into thin air while they spoke.

"It is a door in between the worlds, a portal if you wish to call it so," he elaborated further, his eyes never leaving Anna's face.

"A portal," she muttered as if only by repeating the word it would somehow become less surreal. "But where does it lead to?"

"It can lead to many places far away in time and space, but only when the moment is right, will someone be able to pass through it. I do not know what lies beyond it as I have never treaded on this path myself."

"But you have known about the existence of this, this portal?"

"Yes, I did, but I was not sure at first if this was indeed where you had come from, only when you presented me with this not very credible story of yours I knew that this had to be the way you had arrived here in my forest."

By now Anna's heart was racing wildly, her mind barely being able to keep up with the speed of Thranduil's revelations. "And does this happen a lot around here, people coming through this portal?" she said, resorting to her last bits of dry humour in a vain effort to hold on to her sanity.

"No, it doesn't. As a matter of fact it is a quite rare occurrence," he replied, a slight tremble in his voice, and his fingers still tightly entwined with hers, "but you are not the first person — or the first human, to be more precise —, to step through the portal from the other side. Wanderers in between the worlds we call them and when they arrive they are in a state of utter confusion. Much of what belonged to their lives does not pass with them, lost in the passage through space and time, but some pieces of their old life still linger, so their hearts will forever long for something they have left behind; pulling them back like ghosts from the depths of time, making it impossible for them to take roots in the new world. Forever torn, they usually succumb rather sooner than later to the desire of returning to what used to be their home."

Anna's head was spinning and she had trouble following her own thoughts which were galloping around like a bunch of wild horses. Despite the warm covers and the Elvenking's hands, her whole body was shivering as if it had been submerged in a bucket of ice.

"But why can I not remember anything at all from my past life? It seems that nothing has passed with me. I don't even have shadows to hold on to. I have nothing."

Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud and for a moment Thranduil's face only displayed a rare blank expression as if he was not quite sure about how to proceed. His voice gradually shed all layers of calmness as his usual aura of aloofness began to crumble beneath the rising level of anxiousness he had sought to keep hidden from Anna, and possibly even from himself.

"Please you must believe me, whatever I might tell you now, whatever I did, was not meant to harm you in any way. You must promise me not to take this the wrong way."

This did of course not have the desired calming effect, but rather the opposite. Anna sat bolt upright, all muscles in her body tense in expectation of a revelation of the worst kind.

"How can I promise that, if I do not know what to expect? How can I believe any word that you are going to say?"

"Allow me to explain myself. What I will tell you is the truth. And I want you to be very sure of one thing: all I did was because I wanted you to stay." He looked at her imploringly, but Anna only managed a wordless stare.

And when he finally spoke it seemed to cause him a great deal of pain, the words leaving his mouth almost against his will.

"The fact that you cannot remember anything of your past can largely be attributed to the effect of the Dorwinion you drank on your first day. It was more than just a normal wine and quite a bit of magic was involved in it."

"What?" she exclaimed, her face blanching and her stomach suddenly turning upside down. "You cannot mean what you just said! You knew that this would make me forget my past? And you—, you made me drink it anyway?" Her voice took on a slightly higher pitch before failing her completely.

"Yes," he said ruefully, tightening his grip around her hands as she was stirring dangerously close towards a nervous breakdown. "I am very sorry that I did that, but I had to. I was afraid that you might have wanted to leave again, and I did not want that to happen. I was intrigued by your presence and I needed to find out more, get to know you more."

"B—but you could have just asked me to stay instead of making me forget everything. How could you have been so sure that I would have wanted to leave again?" She wanted to pull her hands away, but he held them in a firm grip.

"I don't think that you would have stayed just because an ancient Elvenking takes you to his palace and asks you to stay. Not if you knew that you would be consciously leaving behind a life."

There was unmistakable bitterness in his voice and when she looked into his eyes she saw a vulnerable soul and a tortured heart, aching for someone to keep him company in those endless days of loneliness.

"Don't think so lowly of yourself," she said as a wave of pity suddenly surged inside her, nearly but not quite overtaking her flaring anger. "You could have at least tried. I might have stayed anyway."

Thranduil's face was a picture of misery, the emotional turmoil beginning to break through the magic that usually hid his scars from view. But he made no effort to conceal them, after all he had already allowed her a glimpse into the terrors of his past before and if he was ever going to regain her trust, the time for hiding things was definitely over.

He lowered his head and then he spoke again, his thumbs drawing small circles on the back of her hands: "I know that I had no right to do what I did and wanting to keep you here with me was an utterly selfish thing to do. But I had long given up all hope, so when you arrived in my lands I wanted to make sure not to lose you again."

"Hope, what hope?" she asked sharply.

He raised his eyes, an infinite ocean of glittering blue so intense she nearly drowned in their depths.

"Hope that one day someone would come from the other side," he said, his voice low and resonant, "someone unlikely and altogether unexpected. A person emerging from the shadows, bringing unrest—," he paused to study her face, starlight dawning in his eyes, "and love."

 _Love_

This singular word shone brilliant like the summer sun, the promise it contained enveloping Anna in a dazzling glow, warm, beautiful and endless, a web of molten gold spinning itself around her heart. How much she wished to just let go and give in, but the brightness was ever dimmed by the clouds of doubt, obscuring the light, her heart sinking back into the shadows.

"And you thought that this person was me?" she said in a small voice, barely trusting her own words.

"Yes, I did," he said solemnly. "I have listened to the song of the tree and the endless melodies of the rustling leaves. You must have heard it too, the song that called to you, although you might not have understood its words or meaning, but I know you must have felt it in your heart, because only then could you have passed through the portal. The tree would not have allowed it otherwise."

This was nearly too much for Anna to digest. Magical portals, talking trees and enchanted wine that somehow miraculously erased her past had her chest overflowing with contradicting emotions.

"B—but I still don't understand! Why now? Why have you not told me any of this before?" She stuttered, her heart stumbling blindly through darkness, the redemptive light eluding her grasp.

Thranduil suddenly abandoned his chair to sit beside her, bringing her hands to his heart so she would feel its steady beat. Gently he weaved his slender fingers through her hair and pulled her face closer to his. And then he looked at her, long and deep, the rich baritone of his voice caressing her like velvet:

"There are too many unspoken things in between us. Too many things I have not told you out of fear that you would reject me and might want to leave again. But I do not want those things to stand in between us anymore."

Something ancient and unfathomable rose from the depths of his eyes and their crystal blue darkened as he continued:

"Because this is the point where we must take a decision: go further or stop now."

Anna swallowed, barely being able to breathe in their shared space, his heartbeat drumming loudly beneath her hands, his fingers warm against her skin and the tempting curve of his lips so unbearably close to hers.

"And I do not want to stop," he said softly.

A sudden knock at the door cut through his unfurling confession and the hopeful gleam on his face died, turning into silent aggravation. Anna's eyes were reddened with unshed tears and it pained him to see her so distraught, knowing that he himself had brought all this upon her. He wished nothing more than to pull her into an embrace, holding her close to him and murmuring words of tenderness into her ear and then finally kissing those rosy lips until she would melt in his arms. But it might never come to this after all.

There it was again, the knocking, this time with more insistence and Anna shot the door a reproachful glance.

"You might need to answer this," she whispered, her hands still flush against his chest, her cheeks flaring hot beneath his tender touch.

"Yes, I fear I must," he said, reluctantly letting go of her and rising from the bed in one graceful motion. He took a deep breath to recompose himself, straightening his robe and in a matter of seconds he had sealed away all emotion behind the polished veneer of a king ready to face one of his subjects. He stood beside the chair with perfect poise, and only at the last moment his hand shot out to grip the backrest, the turmoil raging on inside him still too dangerously close to the surface.

"Come in!" he called in a stoical manner.

A thin servant with an apologetic look on his face entered and bowed low. "My lord, I am very sorry to disturb you, but a messenger from Dale has arrived with important tidings."

"Tell him that I shall be with him shortly," he retorted, his voice hollow and his hands tightening around the wood.

"Yes, my lord." And with another bow as well as his most neutral expression possible the servant quietly headed for the door again, leaving Anna and the Elvenking in a rather awkward place as their hearts struggled on the twisted pathway towards each other.

"I think I need a moment to myself now," Anna said shakily, the dull pain in her lower back making a return appearance and an icy chill creeping through her veins.

"Yes, of course, I understand." There was a heaviness in his words as if all the millennia of his existence were weighing him down like an unbearable burden. "I will come back tonight."

He lingered for a moment undecidedly, a laden silence blanketing the room that was churning with the echo of what had remained unsaid for too long. Anna sank back heavily into the pillows, pulling the covers up to her chin, a meagre consolation in her present state of uncertainty, and when she looked up to Thranduil his eyes were full of hopelessness.

"Please keep a space in your heart for me," he said, his voice on the point of breaking. "I could not bear to lose you."

To be continued…

* * *

 **Author's Notes: This was intense, wasn't it? What do you think of Thranduil's gift for Anna? Was it a good choice? And those revelations! I bet Anna didn't see them coming! Yeah, I know, I'm a mean person for having that servant interrupt them at such a crucial moment *ahem*...**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated :D!**

 **Stay tuned for chapter 27^^!**


	28. Broken

**Thank you so much to everyone who has left a review on the preceding chapter: Averlovi, RubberDuckiez, thrndlwood, Raider-K, Emperor DeLacus and ElectricSheep78!**

 **Thank you also to all those wonderful people who have followed and/or favourited this story! You are very much appreciated!**

 **Onward to the next chapter: After the recent revelations everything seems to come apart and the tender feelings that had grown between Anna and the king are in danger of being severed again. Thranduil is kept busy by his kingly duties, but his thoughts only revolve around being able to set things right with her…**

* * *

 _Chapter 27 - Broken_

 _I would hold you now, if only I knew how._

(Sleeping At Last: Resolve.)

With great reluctance Thranduil had left Anna behind, the haunting amalgam of love and hate in her eyes sending him into a painful spiral of despair and desire. But he would need to silence his heart's tender whispers in favour of the admonitory call of duty, which translated into attending the matters of his kingdom, something he had always prided himself in doing with utmost diligence and selfless devotion. Despite the recent victory against the orcish forces in Dale he could not afford to be negligent. The battle might have been won, but the war against the eternal foe was far from over. He could feel it, the lingering shadow that darkened both his heart and his forest. For a mere instant the malignant clouds had been lifted, allowing the rays of hope to shine through, but the evil storm was still brewing, always on the move, searching for a hold in his lands, sneaking and slithering like a venomous snake, ready to strike when least expected, and he needed to be one step ahead. Thranduil was an ever vigilant and prescient monarch and if he wished for his lands and its people to remain safe, any seemingly insignificant detail would have to be taken into account and observed carefully. And of course any messenger needed to be treated with the same attentiveness, be it someone from Dale or an emissary from the elven realms of Lorien or Imladris. The only thing he hoped for was that he would not have to concern himself with any of this confounded dwarvish nonsense.

So he sat upon his antlered throne, his head held high, a crown of holly resting on his silken hair, the cascades of his silvery white cloak flowing around his body and spilling onto the throne like a frozen waterfall. It glittered iridescently in the speckled light of the magnificent hall's vaulted dome as if it had been woven out of ice crystals. Underneath the cloak's abundant fabric a velvet robe in burgundy with black piping and a high open collar came into view, the spider brooch resting just beneath his neck, his whole appearance a picture of wintry splendour. The lofty height of his throne provided him with a welcome distance from the world around him and the subjects inhabiting it. Not that anyone would have seen a trace of his emotional upheaval on his face, after all he had several millennia of practice in keeping up a facade that was both flawless and stoic, but today he felt that the polished veneer might crumble at any given moment if anyone got too close to him. But Thranduil had all reason to be pleased with the outcome of this meeting, for the messenger had brought glad tidings. Not only had his son and his commander cooperated in an unexpectedly harmonious way in settling the affairs concerning the Woodland Realm in the aftermath of the battle, but they and with them the majority of the Elven army were now finally heading back to Mirkwood. Only those who would help in the rebuilding of Esgaroth would stay behind for as long as they were needed. Still, there was another detail of which he was not entirely sure if it was to his liking or not, and that was the fact that apparently Mithrandir and Master Baggins had joined the Elves on their return path. The meddlesome wizard and the nosy hobbit were not really the kind of visitors he was looking forward to receive right now, as he feared that they might inevitably poke their noses in affairs that most certainly did not concern them in the least.

* * *

With some worries alleviated but an equal amount of new concerns burdening his shoulders he had finally retreated to his chambers, but peace of mind would not come to him today. He had sent all of his servants away, leaving the two guards outside his doors with clear instructions that he did not wish to be disturbed. As soon as those oaken doors had closed behind him, he reached for the clasp of his cloak with impatient fingers, eager to shed the heavy garment as well as his crown which felt increasingly bothersome on his head. With a little less diligence than the usual he dropped both items on top of the massive dresser that stood ready to receive his majestic robes and kingly insignia whenever he wished to dispose of the outer layers of his royal obligations. But the stuffy feeling inside his chest would not be so easily shaken off. His gaze was drawn to the tall mirror on the wall in front of him and with a weary glance he looked at his own reflection. An ancient Elvenking stared back at him, at first sight still the same flawless face he had shown the world for thousands of years, stern and beautiful, framed by the sleek perfection of silvery golden hair, but he knew better than to trust the glamour that hid the wounds underneath. After all the magic was superficial and temporary. Only in the privacy of his chambers he allowed himself to lower his guard and even then it cost him to let go of his tightly regimented composure, even if it were just for one moment. There was only a handful of people whom he had granted a glimpse at his bruised persona, Anna being one of them. There had been empathy and pity, but no trace of fear or repulsion in her eyes, when he had first revealed to her the rawness of his scars on that night, when she had come to confess to him about her involvement in the dwarves' escape. And after that he had thought to have seen in her eyes even the wish to lay her hands on those imprints of evil, but of course she had never dared to put this wish into action. And he would have possibly not allowed it, he thought to himself with embitterment. He wasn't good at letting anyone close to him, he knew as much, and it might easily be his undoing if he couldn't find a way to break down the lingering remains of those walls of ice that encaged his heart. With a grim smile he assessed the elf looking at him, battered and broken inside and out, his scars more visible than hidden, no matter how much he might seek to conceal them. He leaned closer and the ghostly view of his near translucent skin sent a shudder down his spine, reminding him with painful and utter clarity of the price he had paid for still being alive after the dragon fire had nearly burned his body to bits and maimed his soul beyond repair. He was tired and exhausted, tired of this endless fight against the darkness that seemed to drain him even of the tiniest shreds of hope he still held on to. Too unsettling was the sight, so with a frown he tore his gaze away from the mirror, resolutely clasping his hands behind his back, his mood darkening with every passing minute of being condemned to idle waiting.

For hours he paced his chambers and with every single step his room felt more unwelcoming to him, suffocating even. The all too familiar walls seemed to close in on him and more than ever he wished that the accursed darkness could finally be forever banished from his lands, so he might feel the forest's soothing presence around him. He found himself standing in front of the fireplace, staring into the flickering flames, their merry crackling only an empty imitation of the warmth he so much longed for. Several times his restless steps carried him to the concealed door which connected his chambers directly to the adjacent ones. His hand rested on the door knob more than once, ready to turn it around and storm into Anna's room, cross the space to her bed with fiery strides and then sink onto his knees before her and beg for forgiveness. But then he imagined the resentment dawning in her eyes and the fear that he might lose her forever crawled back into his heart and his fingers let go of the knob. And yet again he resumed his pacing, time moving painfully slow like it was mocking the fact that he had an endless amount of it at his disposal.

Out of habit he reached for the decanter to pour himself some Dorwinion, but decided against it, putting the bottle back on the delicate wooden table with a resigned sigh and reproachful glare. He would need something significantly stronger to calm his nerves. In a hidden compartment of his armoire he kept his private reserve of _Miruvór_ , the fabled elven cordial, and only during special circumstances had he resorted to this drink. Today would be one of those days. With slightly unsteady hands he uncorked the elaborate carafe and poured himself a small glass of the delightful liquid that gleamed like molten gold and promised him at least a momentary relief from the ghosts that not only haunted his past, but also threatened to poison his future, a future that looked more than dim if he was completely honest with himself.

* * *

A knock on the door tore him from his gloomy thoughts and for once he considered not answering. He did not want to see anyone and he did not want anyone to see him like this. He stared for another moment at the liquid, pondering the seductive promise of rejuvenation it contained, when it knocked yet again, the hollow noise amplified by the vastness of his chambers. Hadn't his orders been clear enough? Wasn't he granted to have a moment to himself? He had taken care of everything that had required his attention, hadn't he? He furrowed his brows, pensively swirling the contents inside the glass and then he brought it to his lips, draining the whole of it in one long sip. He closed his eyes as the blissful warmth passed his throat and spread through his chest like liquid sunlight, rushing through his veins and filling every pore with renewed strength, sparkling and fresh like a vigorous spring after a long and dreadful winter. He relished in the moment of peace and quiet, although he knew that the improvement would only be a temporary one and his condition was beyond even the powers that lay within this concoction.

But of course it was a short-lived illusion to think that whoever requested admittance would simply go away. He sighed, but to his surprise he didn't feel quite as annoyed as he should be, thinking that he already knew who wanted so very much to speak with him. There was indeed someone stubbornly enough concerned with his well-being, who would not so easily be turned away, especially and even more so if he had given his guards the orders not to be disturbed. Someone who knew him well enough to recognise this as a clear sign that things were not well with him. And who knew that his sense of duty would eventually prevail in the end. As it did.

"Come in," he said, soaking up the last glorious droplets of golden delight that had settled at the bottom of his glass, and as expected, Brethilwen's concerned face showed up in between the massive wings of the oaken doors. She seemed to have come in a rush as she still clutched her leather satchel containing her store of salves, tinctures, and draughts, all those medicines which she administered to Anna on a daily basis with rigorous diligence. She quickly flattened the creases on her moss green dress and smoothed down her dark brown hair with her hands until she seemed sufficiently pleased with her appearance. Her gaze darted from the empty glass in Thranduil's hand to the uncorked carafe of _Miruvór_ on the armoire behind him and with a frown she swallowed whatever remark might have preyed on her mind and only said:

"My lord, I know that you do not wish to be disturbed, but may I have a word with you?" She looked at him expectantly and before he might turn her away she added quickly: "I promise that I will not take up much of your time, but it is important." She lowered her voice, lending her words more weight, "I come directly from my visit to your guest and, well, something is not quite right, and that is putting it mildly."

Thranduil caught her imploring glance and bade her to come in with an approving nod. He turned around and after he had stowed away the glass as well as the carafe in his armoire, he let himself sink onto one of the enormous high back chairs in front of the mantlepiece, beckoning Brethilwen to take the seat opposite him. She carefully placed her satchel on the floor beside the chair and sat down, and although she was naturally tall as are all elves, she almost appeared small on this regal chair of massive proportions, a prestigious piece of furniture, which had been obviously fashioned to impress by its sheer size. When she had finally settled, she folded her hands in her lap, her fingers fiddling with her sleeves. Thranduil sat cross-legged, his arms languidly draped on the wide armrests as the last sparks of the cordial flickered inside his chest like a warm hearth, a small but powerful flame, which would hopefully be enough to temporarily seal the cracks that threatened to tear him apart.

"Please do tell me what burdens you so," Thranduil said with the most nonchalant smile he could muster. That was all the encouragement she needed and the words just poured from her mouth as she seemed more than eager to share her concerns with the Elvenking:

"As I have said, I have just seen to your guest and, well, her behaviour struck me as odd. Not only was she extremely taciturn and showed all signs of emotional distress, but also the sting on her back, which had finally begun to heal at a satisfying rate, was flaring up again and seemed to cause her a considerable amount of pain. To be honest, I am not quite sure which of those two things has caused the other, but I thought that you should know."

Thranduil nodded slowly, still hesitant about revealing too much: "Did she tell you anything, anything unusual?"

"No, she didn't. As a matter of fact, she barely said a word and only reluctantly allowed me to tend to her injuries and administer her medicines. All she wanted, was for me to go away again and to be left alone. But I could see it in her eyes that there was something wrong. It seems that all our efforts in improving her condition have suddenly come to a halt and I fear that it could take a turn for the worse."

Thranduil stiffened slightly, his hands gripping the armrests, and when he glanced at Brethilwen, she had narrowed her eyes in a way she always did when she was about to take the conversation to a more personal level.

"May I speak freely, my lord?" she inquired tentatively.

"Of course you may," he said. "You know that I very much value your counsel." Brethilwen had been his healer for so many centuries that in the privacy of his chambers he had gotten used to treat her more like a confidant than a subordinate.

"Thranduil," she began, finally dropping the formalities, "I see that there is trouble brewing and you are not well and I daresay that her emotional state is not unrelated to yours."

For a moment Thranduil froze in his seat and threw her a calculated glance, but he knew that trying to keep up his facade in front of her would be futile, after all Brethilwen had been the one who had taken care of him after the dragon fire had nearly claimed his live. She knew him better than most.

"You can tell me, you know. I have always been there for you when you needed me, so I think that I do deserve your trust. And if I am going to help you both, then I will need to know what is going on." She straightened herself in her seat, her long brown tresses framing her serene face like a statue and then she waited, looking at him expectantly.

Thranduil leaned back with a sigh, his head falling against the backrest, and for a moment he stared silently at the vaulted ceiling above him, his eyes tracing the dance of the ghostly shadows created by the flickering flames. She was right, he needed her help. So he would have to tell her, no matter how much he may have wanted to keep this morning's happenings to himself.

* * *

"I nearly spoiled everything today," he began and then he leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose, before directing his gaze at Brethilwen, whose expression had only shifted to a slight frown mingled with curiosity.

"I went to see her this morning like every day," he elaborated, "and I brought her a book and a quill for her to write." A small smile played around his mouth as he remembered Anna's sparkling eyes and the way she had pressed the book against her chest.

"I'm glad you have heeded my advice. I knew that this would be a gift to her liking." A distinct trace of satisfaction dawned on Brethilwen's face.

"She said, she liked it more than the necklace," he added with a wry smile.

Brethilwen nodded, eyeing Thranduil quietly. Obviously there was more to come.

"But then she started asking questions, too many questions and despair threatened to overtake her." He rubbed his fingers against his temples. "She looked so utterly lost and I think I must have gotten carried away."

Brethilwen's eyes widened in alarm.

Thranduil swallowed hard and his voice dropped to a near whisper: "I told her about the tree and her loss of memory and my involvement in the latter." He shook his head and clenched his jaw. "She did not take kindly to it and I cannot blame her for it." His shoulders sank and he stared off into the distance with empty eyes.

Brethilwen's voice seemed to come from a great distance, and although the words were not new to him, he had always chosen to ignore them. "If you will forgive my saying so, but I have always insisted that the choice of keeping secrets is not the wisest path and I have never been a friend of this particular enchantment either. She was bound to find out eventually. You know that it has always been like that. Only this time it might finally be the one you have been waiting for so long."

He raked his hands through his hair in frustration. "That is why I wanted to be sure to do everything right, make sure she would stay. But it seems that I have only improved my ability at failing."

"There is still hope. I am quite sure of it, but it is dwindling," Brethilwen said.

Thranduil nodded tersely, holding on to the remains of his kingly composure. "So what do you recommend I do?"

"You know that there is only one choice: you must restore her memory and then let her decide for herself what her heart's true desire is."

Thranduil buried his forehead in his hands as this was what he had known and feared all along. What if she would choose against him? She was his last hope and without her he was about to lose everything. His gaze drifted to the crackling fire and when he watched the flames licking hungrily at the logs, the speed with which they devoured the wood seemed to only remind him of his own doom. He was running out of time.

"What if she—," he broke off, afraid of saying out loud what he feared the most.

"You must have faith, faith in her and in yourself."

"How can I still have faith?" A mirthless laughter escaped him. "I have been running low on faith and hope for too many centuries already."

"Thranduil," she said sternly, "you cannot give up hope, not now. If you do, then everything has been for naught and you cannot want that."

He shifted in his seat, facing Brethilwen with what he hoped to be a stoical expression. "How long do I have?" he said with a drawn out sigh, which gave away more than he had intended.

"Not long enough to face the future alone, but hopefully still long enough to set things right with her," she said. "The healing has taken a toll on you, Thranduil, first Faeldir and then her. You nearly stretched yourself beyond your limit," she said, her words spoken like a true healer admonishing her patient. "If the rift in between your _rhaw_ and _fae_ widens any more, there will be no potion or spell strong enough to keep you alive and prevent you from fading. Not even Master Elrond would be able to help you then." She looked at him imploringly. "You give too much and keep too little for yourself."

"You always say that," he stated dryly.

"Because it is true," Brethilwen insisted, tilting her head sideways, "And since you constantly seem to forget, I need to make sure that I remind you of it."

"For which I am grateful and I promise you that I shall not forget it this time," he said, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "But what I did was necessary to save their lives. There was no other choice, not for me. Although I am first and foremost a king, I am also a healer. I could not have let them die, not if it was in within my power to keep them alive. I would have never forgiven myself."

"I know. That is very noble and I would not have expected anything less from you," she said with sympathy in her voice. "But you must not forget about yourself. If you spend yourself completely, then the kingdom is left without a king."

"I do not plan on dying, Brethilwen," Thranduil said with only the slightest trace of sarcasm in his voice, "and even if the worst were come to pass, there is still my son. He is a very capable leader, as you have seen so yourself, and he has proven himself worthy throughout this last battle and from what I have heard also in its aftermath. I have complete trust in his abilities."

"Indeed I have known Legolas since a young age and I have seen his abilities." Her gaze rested for a moment on her folded hands in her lap. "But it is not his destiny to be king of the Woodland Realm. His path will be a different one." She leaned forward, her grey eyes now searching his. "You are the king and the fate of the forest is inseparably tied to your own. You need to be whole again and not broken, if both of you are going to endure. But you know that already, don't you?" He acknowledged her words with a resigned nod.

The hissing of the fire and the fountain's steady purling were the only sounds filling the room as they both sat in a moment of silence. What he had done to Anna wasn't something he was proud of, but it could not be undone anymore, even if he succeeded in bringing her memory back, and his only hope was her forgiveness. He impatiently awaited the evening, so he might see her again. But brooding in his chambers would not do and he did not want to occupy himself with anything that involved bureaucratic paperwork or other kingly duties. There was only one place, besides Anna's room, where he wanted to be right now.

* * *

The quiet moment was broken momentarily by Thranduil rising from his seat and Brethilwen dutifully following suit.

"I shall go out and take a walk," he said briskly, shifting towards his usual commanding tone, "And I do not plan on being back any time soon. I will take dinner in my private chambers, or I may even skip it altogether."

He had already turned towards his dresser, his fingers flicking through the array of cloaks in a multitude of colours and in varying degrees of elegance.

"Yes, my lord," Brethilwen said, picking up her satchel and easing back into the more distanced relationship of king and servant, which they had been keeping up parallel to the one of patient and healer for so many centuries that it felt like the most normal thing for both of them to do.

Thranduil interrupted his motions to face her again and said with sincerity: "Thank you, Brethilwen, for everything."

"Of course, Thranduil, this is what I was sent here to do after all," she said, a grateful smile lighting up her face and without another word she silently let herself out of his chambers.

Thranduil reached for a thick hooded cloak, one that was less regal and more practical, woven out of plain dark grey wool, the colour of trees in winter, he thought to himself with satisfaction. In one fluid motion he threw it around his shoulders, pulling the hood over his head until all strands of his silvery golden hair had disappeared beneath it. With a feeling of growing anticipation he made his way through the hallways and towards the gate, but even despite his more modest attire there was no mistaking him for a common Wood-elf. After all, being king wasn't solely in the clothes and Thranduil, with his tall frame and proud bearing, carried himself with innate power and the natural authority of a seasoned leader. And when his guards pulled the heavy stone doors open they bowed before him with due reverence. He strode past them with a solemn nod, the doors creaking on their hinges as they fell shut behind him, the dull thud muffled by the layers of freshly fallen snow.

For a moment Thranduil stood motionless and inhaled sharply, filling his lungs with the stinging, but refreshing cold of wintry air, his spirits lifting instantly as the frosty breeze tingled on his face. He looked up into the overcast sky, scattered patches of muddled grey with the promise of more snowfall, and then into the dense woods that lay ahead of him beyond the bridge, dark and gloomy, ready to pull him into their gnarled embrace of swaying branches. No darkness, however evil and devious, had been able to completely overcome the strength that lay in those roots that were as resilient as they were old. More than ever he desired to be among his trees, walk in between their tall pillars, feel their rough bark beneath his fingers and hope that their ancient melody would still be able to soothe his tormented soul.

Thranduil did not return to the palace until late that night.

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _rhaw_ \- body

 _fae_ \- soul

 _Miruvór_ \- an elven cordial, rejuvenates and strengthens

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this latest chapter with a little bit more insight into Thranduil's heart and soul. And it turns out that Brethilwen is more than a simple servant or common healer after all.**

 **Let us hope that Thranduil can find some solace in his beloved forest and that he will be back soon to set things right with Anna!**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated! Thank you folks :D**

 **Stay tuned for Chapter 28^^!**


	29. Ghosts

**A BIG thank you to all those who have reviewed the preceding chapter: Raider-K, ElectricSheep78, DeLacus, thrndlwood, Sil Bellios and Katie Harris (Guest)!**

 **Thank you also to those who have favourited and/or followed this story!**

 **And since I have been asked by Kate Harris (Guest) and others: YES, I will be continuing this story. I have several more chapters already written, which I will upload every 7 - 10 days. Once I have caught up with them, the update schedule will slow down a bit, since I need about 2-4 weeks for a chapter (I have a job, a family and a household to take care of). But again: this story will go on and I intend to see it through till the end.**

 **Thank you all for your support! I really appreciate it :D!**

* * *

 _Chapter 28 - Ghosts_

 _Some truths can save us_

 _Some take our lives_

 _Some truths are fire_

 _And some truths are ice._

(Sleeping At Last: South)

Anna wasn't sure if she'd rather scream, beat her pillow, or smash her drinking glass to smithereens, because not even all of them combined seemed remotely satisfying enough to vent her rage. And sadly for her, none of them would be possible anytime soon, as Brethilwen showed up for her morning visit only shortly after Thranduil had left her room. Anna had to cling to the last fragments of her paper thin composure to make it through the medical routine without breaking apart. To her relief Brethilwen kept her visit unusually short and Anna was finally able to give free rein to her pent up feelings. Waves of fiery anger and icy despair clashed inside her in an emotional thunderstorm. She felt helplessly deprived of her life and her choices, indefinitely tied to a bed she wanted to leave behind now more than ever. Since the prospect of screaming or sacrificing her glass seemed all of a sudden a tad overly dramatic, she resorted to the pillow, which lay, blissfully unaware of its imminent fate, before her. She slammed her fists into her silent companion with all the strength she could muster, dealing out a quick succession of angry blows until her face was flushed pink with the exertion. But the floppy softness offered no resistance, yielding all too willingly to every beat she aimed at it. With an exasperated groan she let go of it and took out her anger on the mattress, imagining how much more gratifying it would be to hammer against Thranduil's broad chest instead. But even halfway through the thought she remembered how he had held her so close, his mouth almost touching hers. What if they had been undisturbed? Would she have allowed him to go ahead? Wasn't that what she had wanted all along? Have his lips claim hers in a passionate kiss? Have him whisper in her ear that he wanted her, loved her even?

She buried her face in her hands and crumpled onto her bed, a picture of misery, her anger shattering into a million pieces and revealing a wounded heart beneath. If only she could silence the gentle flutter in her chest! But she had already let him in too far and now she paid the price for her foolishness. Falling for an Elvenking wasn't something recommended for a mortal woman, she should have known so beforehand. But now it was too late and what has been broken might never heal again. And as her rage ebbed away, the tide of tears rolled in, her pillow soaking them up until it was damp and she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep. This time it was not dreamless, but filled with the most unsettling mixture of obscure trees, their branches swaying above her ominously. Trying to run from them, she found herself swallowed by a pitch-black shadow, burying her and the trees in unfathomable depths, a swirl of impenetrable darkness drowning her in an endless night. She cried for help, Thranduil's name stuck in her throat, but he didn't come. No one came to her rescue. She suddenly sat bolt upright, a silent scream on her lips and her nightgown clinging to her body all soaked in sweat. It took her a moment to realise that she was still in her bed and whatever darkness had threatened to claim her, had not reached her yet.

* * *

A sudden draft of cool air brushing her cheeks had Anna snap out of her drowsiness. Brethilwen had returned and was now heading towards her with an urgency in her demeanour that was not her usual style. Suddenly overly conscious of her dishevelled appearance, Anna hastily wiped her nose on the sleeve of her nightgown, realising that is was possibly futile to try to hide the evidence of her crying. And by the look on Brethilwen's face, she most likely already knew the reason for her current emotional state. Brethilwen dropped her satchel on the table beside the book and the wooden box, Thranduil's heartfelt gifts, and let herself sink onto the mattress with a deep sigh.

"You and I, we need to have a talk," she said, not waisting any time with courtesies, "but first I want you to drink this. In the light of the most recent developments, I deem it only just that you should enjoy the benefits of this cordial." She pulled out a delicate bottle from her bag and poured a small amount of honey coloured liquid into Anna's glass on the bedside table.

"What is this?" Anna asked with a frown.

"No need to worry, I can guarantee you that this will not cause you any memory loss." The slight trace of bitterness in her voice did not escape Anna's notice. "This is _Miruvór_ , our strongest and most efficient cordial. It has the power to restore strength and I am sure it will help you through this dark moment."

She nodded encouragingly and Anna took the glass, although still hesitant.

"It will make you feel better, I promise," Brethilwen insisted, her usually flawless face somewhat strained. "I only wish you well, so please drink it up."

Anna took a tentative sip, the molten gold creating an instantly pleasant sensation on her palate, so she closed her eyes and allowed the liquid to settle like a steadfast flame in her chest, renewed life flowing through her veins like a glittering stream. She was still revelling in the unexpected solace she had momentarily been granted, when Brethilwen took the glass from her hands.

"Now, there are some important matters which need to be addressed," Brethilwen said, putting the glass back on the table. She straightened herself, absentmindedly smoothing down some creases on her dress. "I come from the king. He has told me about this morning," she said, looking at Anna expectantly.

Anna shook her head in dismay. "I still cannot believe what he did."

"I know that this came as a shock to you and you must think of it as something unforgivable."

"It was a shock, yes! He brought me here to his palace and into his life, knowingly taking away all my memories. This is not something to be lightly forgiven! It is my life we are talking here about and not some game the Elvenking likes to play."

"It is not a game and the king surely does not see it as such. He is very much aware of the severity of his deed and he is prepared to face the consequences."

Anna pushed her chin forward, her jaw set square. "It is not right to keep someone under false pretences! He always told me that he didn't know where I had come from and then all of a sudden it turns out that he had know of the existence of this portal all along! And he used his magic to erase my past!" She twisted one of the buttons of her nightgown in between her fingers with such force it snapped off.

"All you say is true and that is also why I have always tried to reason with the king and make him see that this path of secrecy is not the right one. All hidden things come forth in due time and when they do, it will only cause pain."

Anna shot her a sideways glance, tightening her hand around the button as the queasiness in her stomach intensified. "What are you trying to say? Is this something you knew of?" Her palms were suddenly sweating and she sensed yet another piece of revelation creeping up on her. And sure enough, Brethilwen was all of a sudden quite reluctant to go ahead.

"Yes, I did know of it, but you must believe me, that it has pained me greatly not to be able to speak to you about it," she said rather sheepishly and Anna even thought to see a slight blush on her cheeks.

For a moment Anna only stared at the _elleth_ sitting beside her in silence. The one she had thought to be her confidant, friend even, now turned out to have been in league with the king all along. Of course, what else was she expecting? Brethilwen had surely been Thranduil's servant and healer for many centuries and she was a mere mortal having entered this world only a few months ago. It was foolish of Anna to have had any doubts about where Brethilwen's true loyalties lied. Anna took a deep breath while she watched the last remains of her truths crumble before her eyes.

"So you are telling me that you have known about this all along? Since the moment I have arrived?"

Brethilwen nodded silently and Anna was losing whatever grip she still had, the impenetrable shadows from her dream suddenly catching up with her.

"And you have just decided to keep me in the dark all the time?"

"I had made a promise to the king not to reveal anything until he would see fit to unveil those things to you. And as much as I may have wanted to tell you, this was a promise I could not break. Not only am I bound to him by loyalty, but also by friendship."

Anna let out an irritated laughter, the word betrayal flashing prominently before her eyes and blocking out all rational thoughts. She couldn't bring herself to be understanding, even if Brethilwen's motives were only logical. "So you both have used me as some kind of pawn in an obscure plot you have been hatching or how am I supposed to understand all this?" Her voice had risen to an angry yell, but she made no effort to tone it down.

"You know that it is not like that! The king truly cares for you and so do I." Brethilwen stood her ground, her voice calm as ever. Obviously Anna's outbreak did not come as a surprise to her.

"How can you say that you care for me when you are on his side? And how can you still defend him? He had no right to do what he did!" Anna snapped angrily. She was eyeing the glass, seriously contemplating to finally smash it against the wall.

"Because firstly I do care for you, for both of you. And secondly I have known Thranduil for a very long time and even though it might look different from your point of view, I can assure you that his intentions are completely honourable. He never wanted to do you any harm nor hurt you in any way. I know what you are going to say," she said, interrupting Anna before she could mouth a protest. "I know that he did hurt you all the same, but please, I urge you to try to understand what drove him to such measures."

Anna's gaze rested for a moment on Thranduil's gifts and then her shoulders sank as the waves of anger overturned, breaking into countless pieces of despair, and her voice shrunk to a hoarse whisper. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't even dare to trust my own feelings, as they seem to have only led me astray."

"Allow me to explain and forgive me if I seem to go far afield, but I think it is necessary for you to understand. Only then might you be able to overcome your anger." Brethilwen reached out for Anna's hands and she did not pull them away. They sat for a moment in mutual silence and when Anna had partly regained her composure, she said feebly: "I am sorry for my undue outburst. I just—I feel so lost and confused, my whole life is falling apart and I cannot tell truths from lies anymore."

Brethilwen patted her hands as if she was calming a child after a nightmare. "That is why I am here. You can trust me and I want you to see that you can also still trust Thranduil despite what he has done. He needs you more than what you might think and although I disagree with the way he has handled this, I know that he didn't act out of ill will. Thranduil has been a very lonely king for a very long time, kept prisoner by the darkness of guilt, shadows of self-doubt clouding his days and it all began with the dragon fire many centuries ago. I believe you have seen his scars?"

"Yes, I have, but he never told me exactly what had happened. He only warned me of the doom the fire could bring." Unsettling memories of ghostly images resurfaced in Anna's mind.

Brethilwen nodded. "It is a sign of great trust that he has shown you his scars, as only very few people have seen him without the glamour hiding them. And I am sure that the king will not think ill of me if I told you how he acquired those wounds."

And so Brethilwen took Anna along on her journey of grievous recollections.

"In the king's absence the queen had been captured by orcs and taken to their stronghold of Gundabad. When Thranduil learned of her fate, he immediately set out with his most trusted warriors to save her. But although they were valiant and prepared for battle, they did not expect to find a dragon there. It was a terrible disaster. Many were killed and the king nearly lost his own life. And still, despite the great sacrifices, the queen could not be saved and Thranduil blamed himself for her death and those of his warriors. From then on his nights were haunted by their ghosts and his days filled with their screams. He could not even face his own son."

Anna stared at Brethilwen in horror, images of flames and bodies burnt alive rising in her head, but Brethilwen did not stop there.

"After the fire took him, he was only barely alive, half of his body burnt and his _fae_ just clinging to his _rhaw_ by a mere thread and although his body has been restored and he has perfected the use of glamour to hide his scars, his soul has never been quite the same. There is a lingering rift running through what is meant to be whole. And since none can endure long without the other, his condition has gradually worsened and I fear that he does not have much longer left."

Anna swallowed hard, her hands involuntarily closing tighter around Brethilwen's. "What do you mean by this? Is he—is he going to die?"

"If no help comes, then this will be his fate, yes."

"But how do I fit into this? I do not possess the power to stop whatever is causing this rift. I—I do not possess any powers at all."

"Yes, you do, you just don't know it yet," Brethilwen said with a weary smile, her grey eyes resting on Anna with empathy. "You must have faith, faith in him and in yourself. But first you will need to get back your memories."

"Can I? Is it possible?" A gleam of hope suddenly dawned in Anna's eyes.

"Yes, of course it is possible. For every spell, there is one to lift it, even though this one might not be an easy endeavour."

Brethilwen slung one arm around Anna's shoulder and pulled her close. "Don't let your anger suffocate the feelings you have for him. Promise me to hear him out when he comes to see you tonight and allow him a chance to set things right, even if it may seem impossible to you right now."

Anna nodded, albeit with reluctance at first, but maybe if she could get her memories back and things were set right indeed, not everything might be lost after all.

"Good," Brethilwen said and planted a motherly kiss on Anna's hair, before rising from the bed and reaching for her satchel. "I must go now, but I shall make sure that you will not be disturbed. The king as gone into the forest to find some solace, but I know that he is very much looking forward to see you again."

And with those words Brethilwen took her leave, the steady purling of the small fountain magnifying the sudden silence within Anna's chambers.

* * *

Anna felt her heart strangely calm and her head clearer than what she had expected it to be, something she attributed to the combined effect of the _Miruvór_ and Brethilwen's encouraging words. Now that she had overcome the initial shock and her mind had begun to work through all the unbelievable things Thranduil and Brethilwen had revealed to her, she realised that she hungered for more, more details, more explanations. But above anything else she wanted to recover her memory. This would be the first thing she would ask him to do. Only if she knew her past, she would be able to face her future. The evening couldn't come fast enough for Anna, but she was in for a long and dreadful wait.

Deciding that brooding in her bed wouldn't do, she threw back the covers, swung her legs around and sat for a moment at the edge of the bed, enjoying the feeling of tingling warmth as she sunk her toes into the fluffy rug. She instinctively brought her hand to her lower back, and to her relief she only sensed a dull echo of the former pain, hopefully a sign that she was finally on the mend. Emboldened by a sudden burst of energy, she rose from her bed and just to be sure she held on to the headboard, but thankfully her legs carried her weight. Her first steps led her to the pool and the thought of taking a bath was tempting, but she very much doubted that she would be able to truly relax in her current emotional state. She bent over the delicate flowers along the edge of the pool to inhale their sweet scent, but then her gaze was drawn to the large tapestry with the white stag. She hadn't had the chance to observe it in detail and now as she stepped closer, she marvelled at how lovingly it had been crafted. Her hands grazed over the expertly woven rows of thick wool, decorative leaves and flowers added in endless hours of embroidery. As she stood immersed in silent admiration, she felt a lingering draft on her still bare toes. She bent down and noticed that there was a crack in between the floor and the wall, a dim ray of light filtering through. Spurred on to investigate further, Anna lifted the heavy tapestry, the outline of a door coming into view behind it. She quickly had her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, as she had an inkling where this might lead her. Anna bit her lower lip in anticipation and before her courage would leave her, she slowly turned the knob around with a squeaking sound and to her delight she met no resistance and the lock clicked open. She peered through the narrow crack, quickly surveying the room on the other side. The large chamber lay in complete silence before her, chandeliers and sconces lighting up what were unmistakably the king's bedchambers.

She didn't feel quite as guilty as she ought to feel, although what she was about to do clearly fell into the category of snooping around in Thranduil's privacy. But after all, he hadn't had any reservations in putting a spell on her just to keep her here, which made this somehow seem more justified and even gave her a small, but satisfactory feeling of vengeance. Leaving the door ajar, she ventured further and took in the magnificent sight. She had of course been to his quarters before, but she had gotten no further than the antechamber, where he would receive his guests, never had she laid eyes on those undoubtedly much more private areas. Seeing them all deserted made these rooms appear even grander and somehow it felt strange to imagine that one person alone would occupy such a vast amount of space. She felt a jolt of sadness when she thought of all those endless days and nights Thranduil regularly spent in his chambers without company. Surely they did not lack any comfort, but somehow radiated an eerie aura of melancholy and loneliness. It seemed awkward to see his majestic cloak and the crown atop the wooden dresser like abandoned artefacts. With outstretched fingers she carefully reached for the crown, the spiky leaves of holly surely not the most comfortable choice to wear, she thought to herself.

She jumped back startled like she had stepped on hot coals, the crown slipping from her hands and landing quite unceremoniously on the floor, when she saw a ghostly white figure looming in the shadowy depths of the room. Her heart raced wildly as she tried to search in her head for ways to exit this room the fastest way possible, only to realise that it was her own reflection staring back at her from a tall mirror on the wall. The tension left her body and she scolded herself for her foolishness. Who was she expecting to find here in Thranduil's private chambers? The ghost of his wife haunting them, wanting to scare away anyone who got too close to the king? She shook her head at the absurdity of this idea, and with her daringness back in place she stepped closer, but what she saw nearly froze the blood in her veins. The long white nightgown glowed eerily in the flickering candlelight, and the image of a ghost was not far from her mind. Her hair had grown longer and fell now in thick, but slightly unkempt dark golden waves around her shoulders. She tentatively leaned closer, her hands clasping at her pale and sunken cheeks in disbelief and if it weren't for her ever present freckles she would have thought herself a spectral vision rather than a human being of flesh and blood. Orange flames danced in the depths of her eyes. Eyes that were wide and with dark circles around them, the evidence of her distress as clear as daylight. This was the first time since she had been back to the palace that she was able to see the whole of herself and it couldn't be farther from what she was expecting to see. Too unsettling was the sight, so she turned away, her eyes now drawn to the massive fourposter bed directly ahead of her. It occupied most of the space in his room, the intricately carved columns fashioned to resemble trees, their branches entwining and creating an elaborate wooden canopy. It was almost like sleeping beneath a real tree. The pristine sheets of green and cream coloured linen and an abundance of pillows and cushions in various sizes promised hours of comfortable rest, and not only that. She curiously picked up one of the pillows and dipped her nose into it. It was infinitely better than her own. The smell of forest leaves and berries mixed with a distinct musky scent could only be described in one word: Thranduil. A wave of goosebumps rolled over her when a myriad of highly unsuitable scenarios began to unfold in her head, all of them involving the Elvenking stretched out on his royal bed in all his tempting glory. For a moment she stared at the empty sheets like hypnotised, but then her anger suddenly rekindled when she remembered how he had tricked her without even batting an eyelid. She dumped the pillow with an indignant huff and turned away from the bed, a small open chest on a low lying table along the wall now catching her attention.

She peered inside and at first it seemed just a collection of random pretty things and personal belongings, and she shifted through them with mild curiosity. It was filled with letters, a heart-shaped stone, journals, a small dagger in a leather sheath, something that resembled strongly a boldly coloured child's drawing, rolled up parchments and atop it all rested a delicate silver circlet. A beautiful golden locket had been left open and Anna leaned closer to study the pictures inside. And although the colours may have faded, the beauty of the elves depicted was more than obvious. One was unmistakably Thranduil and the other could only be the queen. An angelical face framed by chocolate brown waves, a flower crown atop her head, a serene smile and eyes the colour of liquid silver looked at Anna with a gentleness she did not feel she deserved. A stab of jealousy and guilt hit her when she realised that all these items must have once belonged to her. A box full of love and heartbreak, traces of someone long absent, but ever present. A sick feeling rode up her throat as the ghosts of Thranduil's past sprung to life so vividly right in front of her eyes. She closed the locket with a snap and let it slide back into the chest. It served her right for being an intruder, thoroughly ignoring Thranduil's privacy. These were things not intended for her eyes and now she paid the price for her indiscreet behaviour. Why was she even allowing herself to be so affected by these memorabilia? She was supposed to be mad at Thranduil and not ridden again by jealousy. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, a sudden frost creeping under her skin. In her eagerness to explore she had completely forgotten to put on her robe and the fireplace was barely able to heat the vast bedchamber enough to keep the wintry chill at bay. It was time for her to get back to her room. She could feel her legs beginning to slack, after all her body was still not fully recovered. But a glance at Thranduil's massive oaken desk brought a thought to her mind. Maybe she could write him a letter, or at least leave him a note, trying to explain her feelings. It might be easier than to face him again, his mere presence still causing her to forget half of what she was going to say. With determination she strode over to his desk, its proportions just as impressive as every single piece of furniture Thranduil called his own.

Her fingers grazed along the perfectly polished wooden surface, neatly organised piles of paper sharing their space with rolls of parchments, quills in several sizes and colours, some of them well worn, a sizeable ink bottle, as well as some maps and a few sketches of flowers and leaves, an open box with pencils beside them. She picked up one of the drawings, impressed by the astonishing amount of detail with which this particular flower had been executed, but then another parchment caught Anna's eyes. She shifted some of the sketches to be able to take a better look. It appeared to have been crumpled and smoothed out numerous times, filled with sweeping lines of curved handwriting, angrily crossed out words, replaced by others, only to be crossed out as well. Clearly this did not look like a report on border patrols or the latest delivery of Dorwinion, but was of a distinctly more private nature. The first words alone sent her nearly staggering backwards: _Dearest_ _Adaneth_ , _my little flower_ it read in elegant black letters. She dropped the drawing without giving it another look and pulled out the parchment from underneath, holding her breath as she did so. After a quick glance towards the door and with her heart drumming loudly, she began to read:

 _Dearest Adaneth, my little flower,_

 _As I sit here at my desk, trying to string together the words I wish to tell you, I find myself struggling to formulate a single sentence without the desire to cross it out and start again anew. Like I wish that we could start out anew, without enchantments and deceptions. Giving you the chance which you have deserved from the very beginning and which I have taken from you._

 _Too long have I closed myself from what could bring me joy and when I was finally granted another chance at happiness, I have failed yet again. I am ancient like the weathered trees in my forest, but you are young like a budding flower in spring and you have swept into my life like a summer storm and captured my heart in a way I never thought possible. And although I might not deserve you, I cannot deny that I wish for nothing more than to have you by my side._

Then the text became illegible, a whole paragraph crossed out with forceful strikes that nearly tore through the parchment, and only the final lines made it through the king's merciless self-censorship.

 _You mean more to me than you can imagine and if you left, I would have nothing at all. I may be a wise and powerful king, but I am also broken and alone and I deeply regret the pain I have caused you. I only ask for your forgiveness, to be allowed a second chance, so I might prove to you that I am indeed worthy of your trust and hopefully even of your love._

 _Yours always,_

 _Thranduil_

Anna clasped her hand over her mouth and she might have stopped breathing altogether as those words lit up her weary heart like the golden morning sun. She clutched the edge of the desk, the room spinning around her and there was a sudden sting of tears in her eyes. "Thranduil," she whispered, tracing the delicate letters with her fingers as if she could touch him through the dried ink. Strung together with diligence, many times mulled over, each word carefully chosen and thoughtfully placed, only to be discarded and not deemed worthy of her eyes in the end. She clung to every single one of them, fearing that they might suddenly disappear if she looked away only for an instant.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" She murmured, oblivious of the fact that she was merely talking to herself. The parchment trembling in her hand, she sank onto one of the high back chairs in front of the mantlepiece. She pressed the letter against her chest like it was the most precious treasure on all Arda and stared at the flickering flames, the smoky warmth of the hearth fire enveloping her in a lazy heat. There was a sudden heaviness radiating through her bones, so she pulled up her legs, the chair spacious enough for her to curl up comfortably, her head lying on the armrest's velvet upholstery. She needed to rest, if only for a moment, before she would head back to her room. The soft crackle of the burning wood soon lulled her into a state of drowsiness. Still she did not dare to believe what stared at her in bold letters. _My little flower_ , he had called her. With a smile on her lips and his words in her heart she fell asleep and did not wake until late that night.

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _elleth_ \- female elf

 _Miruvór_ \- an elven cordial, rejuvenates and strengthens

 _fae_ \- soul

 _rhaw_ \- body

 _adaneth_ \- mortal woman

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this latest chapter and the insight we got into Anna's mind and heart. She's upset and has every right to be, but there is no denying that she has strong feelings for the Elvenking. And how about a round of applause for Brethilwen? She is trying to do her best to stay calm and help them both out of their dilemma! And yes, I admit, it was a delight to write Thranduil's letter *sighs*.**

 **Please leave a review, as I'd love to know what has been your favourite moment! Maybe you've even spotted some parallels to the previous chapter, which are of course completely intentional :)**

 **Favs and follows are also very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for Chapter 29^^!**


	30. Lost and Found

**A BIG thank you goes out to all those lovely people, who have reviewed the preceding chapter: BlueLunarRose, ElectricSheep78, Averlovi, Delacus, Sil Bellios, Lydwina Marie, dreamgoneby, thrndlwood!**

 **Thank you also to all those who have favourited and/or followed this story. Your support means a lot to me!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter where we will follow Thranduil back to the palace...**

* * *

 _Chapter 29 - Lost and Found_

 _Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide_

(Sleeping At Last: North)

His mind refreshed and his heart eager to see Anna again, Thranduil made his way back to the palace with a renewed spring in his step. The song of his beloved trees had lifted his spirits and filled his soul with confidence. Not only that, between frozen cushions of moss he had come across a single blossom of _niphredil._ To the unsuspecting eye it might have looked like a small blot of snow, but the Elvenking recognised its tiny white head beyond doubt and the rare sight filled him with joy, for it was highly unusual to find one of those blossoms so early on. They heralded the onset of spring, which was still nearly three moons away. He ran his fingers across the shivering petals, amazed at how they, despite their delicacy, braved the cold. Star of the Earth they were called, revered by his kin, and to him they were a blessing amidst all the barren frost. Maybe there was still hope for his forest and even for himself. He crossed the bridge leading to his palace with long strides, his voluminous cloak trailing behind him through the snow. This time he would do the right thing. He would ask Anna's forgiveness and there would be no more deceptions and spells. Although, there would have to be at least one, necessary to bring back her memory, and he did not feel overly confident about it. In the long millennia of his lifetime he had perfected an impressive set of enchantments, the glamour hiding his scars being a marvellous display of advanced magic, but alas, a person's memory was a different thing altogether. The mind was a highly complex matter, be it of elf or human, and when meddling with it, the prospect of things going horribly awry always loomed in the background. This would require all his skill and utmost delicacy and even then the outcome was still unsure. He hoped fervently that Anna would not bring up the topic of this particular piece of magic, but of course he knew better than that. It would possibly be the first thing on her mind. He looked up into the sky, sinister patches of black ink in between ghostly branches, but the stars were veiled in their endless dome above. No guidance would come from them tonight. He was on his own in this.

The entrance to his palace lay in wintry silence before him, all sounds muffled by the snow, and while the gates were being pulled open, he brushed off a thick layer of snowflakes that had settled on his cloak, wisps of glittering white swirling around him as he stepped through. Darkness had fallen hours ago and there was no more time to be wasted. He would go directly to Anna's rooms, the gloomy loneliness of his own chambers not anything he was particularly looking forward to. He pulled back his hood, soaked through from the hours spent outside, the lengths of his hair plastered to his cloak in wet strands of silvery gold, but for once, changing into fitting clothes, or rather dry ones, would have to wait in favour of more important matters. The hallways around him were filled with an unusual bustle, something that slightly annoyed him as he was hoping for a swift and unperturbed return. Despite the late hour many elves in the palace were still up and going about their business. No doubt the good news of the army's return from Dale must have spread like wildfire down to the very last cavern. A certain sense of elation permeated the air and a humming like that of a beehive enveloped him as he passed the subterranean stairways branching off towards the lower levels, small groups of elves standing in animated chatter in shadowy corners to his left and right. Most likely it was also an open secret by now that not only the prince but also the head of the king's guard were on their way back to the Woodland Realm and even for the most common elf this translated into some sort of reconciliation between them and the king. The further particulars might remain unclear, but there was not a single elf in the palace who was not eager to see the new relationship, especially between father and son, with their own eyes. After Thranduil's dramatic return with a grievously injured Anna the ambience had been somewhat subdued and everyone had watched with bated breath as Thranduil had tended this strange human with a level of concern and dedication he had not displayed in several centuries. It did not take long for even the most sceptic to notice that there was something profound growing between the two of them. Whispers sprouted that the king's heart might finally be thawing and this _adaneth_ could be more than just a guest after all, turning her visit into a permanent stay. But what none of them knew was, that, as Thranduil was finally willing to commit himself, things were in danger to fall apart altogether. The faces that turned towards him greeted him with gestures of reverence, many of them alight with cheerful anticipation. He passed them with a stoical expression on his face, for he knew in his heart that some of those smiles would die on their faces when they would realise that their loved ones would not return. It was the harsh reality of war and the price they payed for peace, or rather for his desire to reclaim a necklace, he thought to himself with embitterment.

* * *

Thranduil rounded the last corner towards the royal quarters, leaving behind the excited chatter and clatter, the silence welcoming him like a soothing embrace. Thalion, the young dark-haired guard in front of Anna's chambers stood at attention as Thranduil approached him and for a moment the king felt a brief stab of guilt. Maybe he had been overly strict with his orders, being fiercely adamant about no one entering and leaving these rooms in his absence. Now that he was standing right in front of the obviously sealed doors, his fear of Anna running away appeared suddenly unfounded.

"Any unusual occurrences in my absence, Thalion?" he inquired and the guard seemed to swell with pride, this being his first important assignment as member of the king's guard.

"No, my lord. Everything has been quiet and I have made sure that your orders would be closely followed." Under the well trained expressionless facade only a slight tightening of the jaw gave away Thalion's lingering tension. Thranduil graced him with a satisfied nod and then the guard pulled the doors open, announcing in a clear voice: "My lady, the king is here to see you."

Thranduil strode into the room without waiting for an answer, not that he needed to, his cloak billowing behind him like a dark storm cloud, but he stopped dead in his tracks even before Thalion could shut the doors behind him. His voice cut through the ominous silence like the edge of a knife. "This room is empty," he said. His words were ice and so was his gaze when he faced Thalion, who had abandoned the doorknob and stood now thunderstruck beside the king.

"M—my lord," he said, nearly lost for words. "I assure you that this door has been shut at all times during your absence. No one has entered or left."

"Are you quite sure of that?" Unspoken accusations rang through Thranduil's words, the strain in his voice palpable.

The blood rushed to Thalion's head and after a moment of hesitation he said: "Well Brethilwen did, but with your permission."

"So, someone did leave this room then," Thranduil said silkily, raising one of his eyebrows.

"Yes, but she was the only one. No one else has passed through this door. I assure you, my lord that —"

"Don't waste your breath!" Thranduil cut him off rather gruffly.

Panic began to surge beneath his anger. She could not have possibly slipped away unnoticed! Not unless she had mastered the ability to turn invisible like a certain hobbit appeared to possess. His heavy cloak suddenly seemed to weigh him down, the cold seeping into his bones. With a skilful twist he loosened the silver brooch to dispose of the uncomfortably wet garment, flinging it onto a nearby stool without so much as another glance. For a moment he stood as if in a trance beside Anna's bed, the emptiness laying itself like a shroud around his heart. He paid no heed to Thalion, who seemed to be in utter distress at having failed his king. The guard scuttled around, obediently searching every nook and corner of Anna's chamber, the pool and the alcove with the bookshelf being his first guesses. Thranduil's own eyes remained fixed on the evidence of Anna's absence. Her robe hung folded and untouched over the headboard and the tips of her slippers peeped out under the bed. She could not have possibly gone far, barefoot and dressed in naught but her nightgown. And if her condition was anywhere near as serious as Brethilwen had described, she was in no state to wander around. His fingers grazed over the book he had given her, which lay together with the wooden box on her bedside table, much like an abandoned gift from an unwanted person. He pressed his lips together, turning away from the sight. If only he had listened to Brethilwen's advice from the very beginning, much could have been different.

"My lord!" Thalion called from across the room, rousing Thranduil from his brooding reverie. "I think I found something!"

Thranduil spun around, momentarily both relieved and alarmed. There was his guard holding up the tapestry with the stag, the concealed door to his own bedchambers clearly standing ajar behind it.

"It appears that your guest has made an unexpected discovery, my lord."

"So it should seem." Thranduil drew his eyebrows together in a frown. This was clearly not what he had expected though. His orders to Thalion were short and crisp: "Send for Brethilwen and tell her to come to my chambers. Then you will resume your post. The hour may be late, but your duty has not ended yet. I shall proceed on my own from here on."

"Yes, my lord!" Thalion bowed, but did not move.

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a strained sigh. "What is it now, Thalion?" he said rather tersely.

"With your permission, my lord," the guard said, holding the king's gaze, "I am quite sure that Brethilwen is not to be blamed for this."

"Why would you assume that I should think so?" Thranduil said icily.

"Well, I thought that, since you wanted her to come to your chambers, it meant that —,"

"You thought wrong." Thranduil did not wait for Thalion to finish his sentence. This was it, the end of his patience with this young guard was imminent. "But even if this were the case," he enunciated every word clearly, "it would be none of your concern."

"Of course, my lord. Please forgive my wrong assumptions." Thalion bowed and shuffled aside, making way for the king, who rushed past him without another word.

* * *

As he lingered on the threshold Thranduil was trying to remember the last time he had stepped through this door. But it wasn't a pleasant memory and so he pushed it to the back of his mind rather quickly. But there had been times in the past where this door had been kept open, permanently connecting the royal chambers and Thranduil could see the images clearly, as vivid as if they had just been a day ago, in front of his mind's eye.

There was a tiny golden haired elfling running back and forth on his stubby legs in between the two rooms, shrieking with high pitched laughter. He stormed towards his Adar, who was trying to work at his desk with varying degrees of success, and then back to his Naneth, who had her maids attend to her gown in preparation for the upcoming royal dinner. The elfling squealed in delight as both his parents took turns in teasing him with cuddles and tickles whenever they got a hold of him until he finally plonked himself down at his father's feet, cheeks flushed pink in exertion, his blue eyes alight with the pure and innocent joy of a carefree childhood.

"How long do you need with that?" The little elfling pouted, pointing with his rounded chin in the direction of his Adar's seemingly never diminishing pile of papers. "I want to play!" he whined, his lips quivering.

"Not long, my little leaf," Thranduil said to his son, who looked at him pleadingly. "And you are playing, aren't you? You have been racing around the royal chambers for several hours already. Shouldn't you be tired by now?"

"But I am not tired!" The elfling protested fervently, wrapping his arms around his father's legs to snuggle up against him and tugging at the brocade robe with impatient little fingers. "And I want to play with Nana and with you! Please?"

Thranduil finally put his quill down and peered at his son, trying to maintain a serious facade, which proved increasingly difficult with those endless pools of blue staring at him.

"These are important matters that require my attention, Legolas," he said, placing one flat hand atop the parchment in front of him.

"More important than me?" Legolas' eyes suddenly threatened to fill with tears.

"No _iôn-nín_ , of course not," Thranduil said with a smile quirking around his mouth. "You are more important than anything else in this world, but that still does not mean that a king and a queen do not have duties to attend to. And you are a prince, so you will have to learn that sometimes what we want to do and what we have to do are not the same thing. But go now and sit with your Naneth, so I can finish this up quickly and then we will play."

Reluctantly the elfling let go of his father's legs and stood beside the enormous desk, his little nose pressed against the edge.

"Promise?" he asked, his eyes wide like saucers.

"Promise," came the king's answer. Those eyes never failed to soften his heart, but of course he would never admit to anyone that his son could wrap him around his little finger. "And besides, I have a new wooden sword for you to try." A mischievous glint was in Thranduil's eyes.

"Really?" The prince's chubby cheeks grew even rounder, his whole body bobbing up and down in anticipation.

"Yes, and the faster I can finish this, the sooner you will get to see it. So, off you go, little leaf!" He sent his son away with a playful tap on his nose.

Legolas nodded obediently and turned around, calling out to his mother "Nana, Nana! Ada says he has a new sword for me!"

Thranduil watched as his son hopped back to the queen's rooms like a fawn in spring, waving his arms in excitement, the incessant pattering of his tiny feet on the stone tiles gradually fading away. When the small shape had disappeared through the door and only the echo of his son's laughter remained in the air, he turned his attention back to his paperwork. But in truth his concentration was long gone and his fingers were now itching to exchange the quill for the hilt of his own practice sword.

"I will finish this later," he murmured to himself, pushing away the pile of documents to be signed and mentally preparing himself for another long night of work. He pulled out an elongated wrapped package from the lowest drawer of his desk and rose from his seat.

"Now who is the greatest warrior in all the Woodland Realm?" he called aloud as he picked up his own wooden sword from its stand along the wall, twirling it in his hand with graceful ease and a faint swooshing noise filling the air. High pitched giggling was the answer from beyond the door and with a wide grin on his face the king threw himself into the fray.

* * *

With a melancholy smile Thranduil resurfaced from those precious memories of golden times long turned dark. But this was not the right moment to dwell on them, he reminded himself. More amused than upset he took to investigate his chambers, unsure of what he might find. His rooms had more than one concealed door and if Anna had found this one, the others might not be safe from her curiosity either. At first sight everything appeared just the way he had left it several hours ago, but then the distinct pointy shape of his crown on the floor caught his eye and he was quite sure that this was not where he had left it. He picked it up to place it atop his cloak on the dresser, carefully avoiding the spiky edges of the holly leaves, which stuck out at rather awkward angles, but the state of his crown was not his main concern at the moment. Although he was less than fond of finding his personal belongings out of place, he could not quite bring himself to be angry with Anna. His only wish was to find her, both unharmed and well. Everything else could wait. He passed the tall mirror along the wall, avoiding his reflection, as he didn't need another reminder of his drenched appearance, the flickering candlelight casting a blood red gleam on his burgundy robe. He half expected Anna to leap out from a hidden corner, either frightened at the prospect of being discovered or eager to be found and ready to face him in a heated argument. But the vast expanse of his chambers lay completely deserted and in utter silence before him, just like every other single day. He shot a curious glance at his bed, but put the idea right out of his mind. She could not have possibly lied down there, although he had to admit that he was not averse to the idea of finding her stretched out in between his sheets. He shook his head at his own frivolousness. This was not something that was going to happen any time soon, if it was ever going to happen.

He turned around and then he saw her, or rather he saw waves of golden hair flow in between the armrest and the seat of his high back chair. His heart picked up its pace as he approached the chair silently from behind, the massive back still hiding her body from view. He held his breath as he gripped the backrest and peered over it. A cascade of emotions washed over Thranduil's face when he saw her all curled up on his giant chair, the innocent nightgown hugging her curves in the most delicious way. She seemed so small and fragile, almost like a little girl that had climbed onto her father's armchair to wait for his return, and then falling asleep when the waiting had stretched well into the night. Her head was nestled against the armrest, strands of her honey-coloured hair splayed on the flowery covers, her legs pulled up with only her toes peeping out from under her nightdress, and her hands folded tightly against her chest. For a moment he just stood there, drinking in this tender image, gladness in his heart that he had not lost her, but rather found her in the most unexpected place. Despite the fire flickering close by, there were goosebumps on her arms and shoulders, so he reached for a woollen blanket on the footstool nearby and pulled it gently over her body, careful not to wake her. A small sigh escaped her and she shifted her head, her neck now so close to his fingertips that he could almost feel her pulse on his skin. A sudden flash of heat surged inside him and he quickly retreated his hands, before his body might eventually betray him. As he adjusted the blanket he noticed that her hands were wrapped around a crumpled piece of parchment. He did not want to extract it from her fingers, but even without being able to smooth it out he recognised it as his own letter, the one he had abandoned in frustration, convinced that she would probably throw it right back at him. But yet here she was, his little flower, in his room, asleep on his chair, covered in his blanket and holding on to his letter. Maybe this was a good omen indeed.

For a moment he was torn in between waking her immediately or just allowing her to keep sleeping until she would wake of her own accord, but decided that the latter was probably the better choice, besides he wouldn't want to miss this moment of peaceful bliss. With nimble fingers he removed the spider brooch and placed it atop the mantlepiece, proceeding then to undo the clasps of his velvet robe one by one, peeling himself out of the garment and draping it across the backrest of the other chair. He concluded that the white tunic underneath was still in a reasonably dry condition, something which could not be said of his black leggings. He let himself sink onto the chair facing Anna and pulled off his boots, stretching his long legs towards the fireplace, so the heat might dry them as best as possible. He found his eyes straying back to Anna, as this was the first time in nearly two millennia that actually there was another female, be it _adaneth_ or _elleth_ , asleep in his chambers and it felt right.

There had been some for whom he might have harboured a superficial feeling of adoration in the past, but none had been able to kindle in him a protectiveness as fierce as this mortal. He could feel the desire to make her his own rushing through his veins like the echo of a long forgotten song. The vigorous power of his emotions had scared him, had made him want to keep them under lock and key, afraid of what they could do to him if they were freed of their cage. But then, in the midst of the darkest moment, when he had almost believed her lost after the spiders' attack, something unexpected had happened, something that had erased all doubts he still might have had. It had been a healing bond and nothing more and he had been careful so as not to push too far. Even with the distance remaining in between them, he had felt the faint golden light emerging from her soul and when his own _fae_ had reached out for hers to push back the darkness, it had been like the completion of a chord, the missing note in a melody, enveloping him in perfect harmony. With utter terror he had witnessed her inner light flicker when the fever had threatened to consume her afterwards. The fear of losing her had driven him to the radical and admittedly risky art of fire-magic. He had been very much aware that he had knowingly pushed her to the very edge of what her body could possibly endure, and it had nearly broken his heart to see her suffer so much at his own hands, but it was either that or lose her to death and that was not an option he was willing to consider. By the grace of the Valar he had succeeded in the end and Anna had proven to be much stronger and more resilient than what was to be expected of a mere mortal. He looked at her with fondness, her lips slightly parted and her brows drawn together in a frown, her chest rising and falling steadily, and he wondered if she had also felt their connection through the bond they had so briefly shared.

* * *

While he waited for Anna to wake up he thought that he could use a glass of Dorwinion to wash down the lingering tension in his veins. He rose quietly from his seat and made his way over to the small table that stood near his dresser to serve himself of his favourite vintage. When he reached out for the carafe there was a knock at the door and following his soft-spoken "come in" Brethilwen strode into the room, her face pale and distraught.

"You called for me, my lord." She bowed and added slightly out of breath, "I heard from Thalion that she—, she is gone from her room?" Her voice was unnaturally high, and her eyes went wide at the sight of her king standing barefoot, his hair still damp and not anywhere near its usual sleek perfection, wearing only his tunic and leggings, both of which might have seen better times. Thranduil nodded gravely, while proceeding to pour himself a glass of wine at what could only be described as an agonisingly slow pace.

"Yes, that is true," he said, picking up the glass and languidly swirling the contents inside, while he leant casually against the edge of the table, "but please, do keep your voice down."

Brethilwen frowned, confusion written all over her face, but did as she was bidden and lowered her voice to a near whisper, her eyes barely being able to focus on the king. "I am terribly sorry my lord, I have no idea how that could have happened. I swear that she was still in her room when I left her and I am sure that she cannot just have disappeared!"

"Indeed, she cannot," he answered, his voice as calm as the sea on a clear summer's day.

"But how can you be so tranquil when she is lost?" Brethilwen wrung her hands, her face flushed pink.

Thranduil took a slow sip from his glass, the heady bouquet creating a pleasant tingle on his palate and after placing the glass back on the table, carefully alining its base with the floral decor on the wooden surface, he faced Brethilwen with a smirk "Because I have found her."

"You have?" Brethilwen stared at him incredulously. "But why did you not tell me?" She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation.

"I am telling you now, am I not?" he said, his smirk widening into a toothy grin, and Brethilwen raised one of her eyebrows, swallowing whatever remark she might have wanted to drop.

"Yes, yes of course you are, but may I ask where she is?"

He pointed an elegant finger towards the high-back chairs behind him and following his approving nod Brethilwen sneaked curiously towards the mantlepiece. Thranduil first watched her from the corner of his eye and then ambled over to stand beside her, hands clasped behind his back. The image of Anna sound asleep and swaddled in Thranduil's blanket cast a gleeful smile on Brethilwen's face. With a satisfied nod she turned towards him.

"You are one lucky _ellon_ , Thranduil," she said airily.

"I know. Possibly more than what I deserve," he retorted with no small amount of smugness.

"Ever the modest one, aren't you?" she teased him.

"You know me well, Brethilwen," he said, lazily crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I do, but I am glad for you nonetheless." Suddenly her gaze was drawn to the empty dining table. "Should I tell the kitchens to prepare dinner for two then?" she asked, always the devoted servant, no matter the circumstances.

"Yes, please," he said, rubbing his hands together, as he felt his appetite suddenly resurfacing. "It appears that I might not be dining alone tonight after all."

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _Niphredil_ \- a winter flower, meaning 'little pallor' or 'snowdrop'

 _adaneth_ \- mortal woman

 _iôn-nín_ \- my son

 _Adar_ \- Father

 _Ada_ \- Daddy

 _Naneth_ \- Mother

 _Nana_ \- Mommy

 _elleth_ \- female elf

 _fae_ \- soul

 _ellon_ \- male elf

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this latest chapter, following Thranduil back into the palace and finding Anna where he had least expected her. And Thranduil remains the king of sass, but Brethilwen knows how to handle him XD.**

 **I especially loved writing the short flashback with little Leggy. I mean, he is adorable, isn't he?** **Please check out the video with a song my husband composed based on this small scene. It's called Thranduil's Lullaby and you can find the youtube link on my profile page!**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for chapter 30^^!**


	31. Stay

**A BIG thank you goes out to the following lovely people who have reviewed the preceding chapter: Cyberneko89, thrndlwood, DeLacus, Averlovi, BlueLunarRose and Sil Bellios!**

 **Thank you also to all those who have followed and/or favourited this story of mine! I appreciate every single one of you!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter is it and I promise you this will be an EXCITING one! Are you ready? When Anna finally awakes in Thranduil's chambers, an apology and dinner are not the only things she is served...**

* * *

 _Chapter 30 - Stay_

 _Some truths are gentle, forgiving and kind_

 _Some truths are hard to define._

(Sleeping At Last: South)

The clatter of plates and the compelling aroma of freshly cooked meat seeped into Anna's dreams, twisting them into the strangest mixture of trees and food. When an ear-splitting lightning struck a mighty oak and she felt herself tumbling backwards with its shockwave, the splintering of wood took on the bell-like tinkling of glass and silverware, the forest-fire smelling gradually more like roasted meat than burning wood. She shifted in her seat and squinted through one of her eyes only to find a myriad of tiny flickering flames dancing all around her. For a moment panic gripped her. It couldn't be real, how could the fire have followed her?

She sat bolt upright, her eyes now wide and she saw that she had awoken to a sea of candles that flooded the room with a golden light. Innumerable candles of various shapes and sizes were burning merrily in candleholders that had been placed all over the furniture. It took her only another instant to realise that this was not even her room at all. These were the king's chambers and she had been trespassing, snooping around in his privacy, the proof of her insolence still clutched tightly in between her fingers. What madness had possessed her to indulge in such a scandalous adventure she could not even fathom anymore. She only wished that the blanket might turn her somehow invisible, so she could sneak back to her own rooms unnoticed. But of course, this wasn't going to happen, the blanket didn't feel remotely magical and only brought another disturbing question to her mind. However did it find its way around her? She took a careful look at her surroundings. The chair facing her was empty, but had Thranduil's burgundy robe draped around the backrest, his black boots standing by the fireplace. This most likely answered the question of the blanket. Thranduil must have found her indeed and the fact that he had not woken her up to send her back to her rooms must mean that he wasn't angry with her, or at least not to a degree that would make him do something he might regret later on.

The commotion emerging from a hidden corner of the chamber had come to an end and only muffled voices could be heard, then silent footsteps and a door being opened and closed. Anna still did not dare to move and now that the reality of what was about to ensue began to sink in, she had to admit that she wasn't really ready to confront Thranduil with all her messed up feelings. The wild concoction of ire and passion burning in her heart was all too painfully present. Maybe if she pretended that she was still asleep, she might be able to sneak out after he had gone to bed and spare herself an embarrassing scene. Although she reminded herself that this would most likely not work, as elves never slept like humans, so she scratched the sneaky and stealthy idea from her mind. Then the only other option was to take the offensive and just make herself noticed so Thranduil would come to her side.

* * *

"It seems that you have taken a liking to my chambers," came Thranduil's deep voice suddenly from above.

He was leaning with his arms folded on top of the backrest and looking down at her with an amused smile. Whatever plan Anna had laid out, it just got foiled by the Elvenking's uncanny ability to appear silently out of nowhere. Anna shrunk back into the chair, instinctively pulling the blanket up to her chin and realising too late how silly this must look, after all, he must have found her with only her nightgown on.

"This is not how it looks. Well, actually it is, but it—I am sorry," she spluttered, getting tangled in her own words. This might turn out even more embarrassing than she had previously envisioned. "I shouldn't even be here, so I'll be leaving now."

"Please," he said, indicating for her to stay seated, "you are exactly where you should be and before you say anything else, I need you to listen to me."

With a graceful motion he sank onto his knees before her and took her hands in his, his self-assurance suddenly replaced by a humbleness that was as unusual as it was captivating.

" _Lotheg nín_ , I speak to you now not as the Elvenking but as Thranduil and I ask only that you hear me out. I understand that you must feel very confused and you have every right to be angry with me, but don't leave me here without having been able to explain myself."

He laced his fingers through hers and even if Anna had wanted to object, this unexpected display of vulnerability clothed in the magic of his voice had her hanging on his every word, the flickering flames dancing around him like little sparks.

"I know I have done you wrong in depriving you of your past and therefore taking away the possibility that you might decide for yourself, if you wish to stay here or return to your world. I was afraid that you would turn away from me that I did not foresee clearly the consequences of my actions, something I now dearly repent. I cannot undo what I did, no matter how much I wish I could." He looked at her intently, his thumbs grazing over her hands. "So the only thing left for me is to ask: will you forgive me please?"

In this fleeting moment he was just a simple _ellon_ , barefoot, his clothes untidy and his hair unkempt, laying his heart at her feet and the sincerity of it touched her more than any regalia or grand gesture ever could. Deep affection and honest remorse were in his eyes and the way he put himself at her mercy nearly tore down the last remnants of her resolution to keep her feelings for him reined in. Still, there was a part of her that wanted to yell at him, maybe even slap him in the face, even though one that was evaporating rapidly.

"I— I am indeed confused about pretty much everything and yes, I am upset because of what you have done to me. You shouldn't have kept me in the dark about all the things you knew about me and you shouldn't have put that spell on me in the first place. I did not choose to come here, as a matter of fact, I have never heard anything about a portal in between worlds until you told me about it. Why couldn't you have been honest with me from the beginning instead of turning me into a pawn in one of your little charades?" Anna had to fight back tears as the magnitude of her situation hit her again with full force. "I may have lost the memories of my past life, but I am pretty sure that playing with peoples' lives isn't an acceptable past-time, no matter the time and place, not even for a powerful Elvenking."

"I was not playing with your life and I am sorry if I made you think that way." Thranduil ruefully lowered his gaze, his shoulders sinking imperceptibly. "I should have known better, done many things differently and I am sorry that I didn't. One should assume that with my age and alleged experience I should have possessed greater foresight, but instead I have allowed myself to be misled by my fears. When I should have acted with prudence and wisdom, I was being selfish and inconsiderate, not at all qualities that are very flattering." He looked up to her again, hope and despair mingling in his eyes, all pretence falling away. "I know that I have admonished you in the past for acting on an impulse and allowing your emotions to get the better of you. What I have failed to see is that your kindness and empathy are not a sign of weakness, but rather of strength. It is what makes you special and what has won you the hearts of many and mine as well."

He laid bare his innermost thoughts for her to see and Anna's own heart was aching at the sight of his bitter remorse. Suddenly his left hand went cold as ice around her own and the faint outline of his scars crept over the left side of his face like a chilling frost, the smoothness of his voice beginning to crumble. "I am not perfect, far from it actually, and I cannot blame you if you resent me for my faults, but I want you to know that I would protect you with my life and if you left, I would be devastated." The mutilated flesh on his cheek was now clearly visible and his left eye had gone completely blind, but he made no effort to conceal his broken self. "Will you grant me this one chance to prove to you that I am still worthy of your trust?"

His heartfelt words did not miss their target and Anna's resentment finally collapsed under a fierce wave of affection.

"I— I do want to forgive you," she began, and then without another word she clasped her hand to his face, pressing her palm gently against the scarred tissue. It was cold, but surprisingly soft, like freshly fallen snow. She looked into his eye and saw surprise, an initial shock even, but then Thranduil leaned into her touch as her fingers trailed over what once had been his well defined cheekbone and his determined jawline, and the tension of centuries seemed to melt away beneath her hands. Anna took her time, allowing her fingers to graze slowly over the deep valleys of his scars, her thumb now resting at the corner of his mouth.

"Can you feel it when I touch you there?"

"Yes," he breathed and the unfamiliar sensation of touch, where he had not allowed anyone close, nearly seemed to overwhelm him, "but it is very faint, a mere tingle, like the memory of touch."

Her fingertips followed the rugged pattern of sinews that spread across the plain of his jaw towards his ear and down to his neck.

"And your left eye, can you still see?" she finally found the courage to ask.

"Not really," he said, a grim smile contorting his face, "but my right eye is good enough to make up for the loss and I have learned how to live with it."

He gazed at her and there was sorrow but also gratefulness in his one eye of brilliant blue. "It is the reason why my weapon of choice is the sword and not the bow, as my aim lacks the necessary precision. And this is one thing a warrior cannot afford."

"But I am sure that you are still an amazing fighter. I have seen you only once, when you came to my rescue during the spiders' attack and you even managed to somehow magically guide my sword while wielding your own. Without your skills I would surely be dead!"

"My skills are not quite what they used to be." His voice was harsh and full of bitterness. "And without Brethilwen's care I would have probably never been able to hold a sword, let alone fight with one ever again. Her abilities as healer have helped my body recover from most of the damage, but there are some things that cannot be mended."

For a moment Anna halted her ministrations and only looked at him, and there was a weariness in his gaze that spoke of a lifetime that was nearly inconceivable in its length. He seemed exhausted and tired beyond the account of human years.

"Brethilwen told me about the day of the dragon fire," Anna said, her voice wavering, "she spoke of a rift and that you might fade." An icy wave of fear washed over her heart and she felt her own hands going cold. "Does this mean that you are going to die?" she whispered, her own loss of memory momentarily pushed to the back of her mind.

The sudden trace of fear in Anna's voice yanked Thranduil abruptly from his near trance like state and he laid his own hand on top of hers, gently pulling it away from his face. In the blink of an eye the glamour hiding his scars descended like a veil on his face, his left eye restored to its mesmerising beauty.

"Always the dramatic one, Brethilwen, isn't she?" Thranduil said lightly, the lingering shadow on his face not quite matching the tone in his voice.

"She did not seem overly dramatic to me, but rather genuinely concerned," Anna retorted, taken aback by the sudden inexplicable change in his mood.

"Brethilwen has been my healer for a very long time, but I daresay she worries too much."

"So you are not dying?" Anna pressed on, still not convinced.

"No, I am not and I do not want you to worry about it. Brethilwen should not have planted those concerns in your head." A facade as smooth as marble descended over his features.

"But what if —," Anna began, but Thranduil seemed intent on closing the topic.

"I am ancient and have weathered many hardships and whatever may still come to pass, I will make it through." He squeezed her hands lightly. "Especially if I know that I have gained back your trust."

"Yes, you have," Anna nodded, reluctantly letting this unsettling matter go for the time being, "but I need you to promise me one thing."

"Of course, whatever you ask of me."

"No more spells involving my memory." She drew her eyebrows together in a frown, giving him a stern look.

"No more spells." He nodded readily, a look of relief dawning on his face.

"Except one," she said and Thranduil's face froze momentarily, "and that is to restore my memory. Brethilwen told me that there is a spell and that you could do this."

"She did?" Thranduil said more to himself than to her. "I see that Brethilwen has been apparently quite the talker."

Anna looked at him imploringly. "I need you to do this, because only when I know who I really am, can I see what my future will be. I cannot go on living like this in the unknown."

There was a moment of hesitation, a subtle tensing of his jaw as conflicting emotions flitted across Thranduil's face, before he nodded and said: "Very well. I will do as you wish, but you must allow me some time. It is not an easy spell and will require some preparation."

"Yes, of course," she said, "that is as long as you do not leave me waiting too long."

"I won't, I promise," he said and then he motioned to pick up the crumpled piece of parchment that had slid to the floor and placed it in Anna's lap. "I believe you dropped this," he said with the hint of a smile quirking around the corners of his mouth. "I thought you might want to keep it."

"Yes, I do very much so," she said, a blush creeping over her cheeks.

"I wrote and rewrote it so many times and then I couldn't find the courage to give it to you, but I am glad to see that you seem to think better of it than what I did. Am I right to assume that I do have reason to hope?"

The ghost of a smile passed Anna's face. "I believe that there is always reason to hope."

"Good," he said, his face lighting up, "hope is always a good thing."

* * *

His eyes trailed to the back of the chambers. "How would you like to have dinner with me now? I know that this may not be the elegant dinner I had in mind to share with you, and we are both not appropriately dressed, but I still would be honoured if you would join me before the venison gets cold. The kitchens have outdone themselves in preparing your favourite dishes."

No matter her agitated state, Anna had to admit that she was hungry and the food indeed smelled too delicious to refuse. Thranduil looked at her expectantly, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, biting her lower lip as she pondered her decision.

"I could lend you one of my robes, in case you are cold, if that is what's holding you back," he said with a sweeping gesture towards his dresser. "It might be a bit too spacious for you, but I can assure you that it will keep you warm."

"Thank you. That would be very kind of you," she said and the instant she had uttered the last word, Thranduil had turned around on his heel and she heard him rummaging around behind her and then a moment later he appeared with a moss green robe of the softest velvet folded around his arm. The intricate latticework of vines and leaves with a silvery weft made it appear as if the foliage itself had been woven right into the cloth. He held it up in front of her, beckoning her to stand up.

"Try this one. It's quite old, but one of my favourites, superbly comfortable and of an unrivalled subtle beauty! I swear they don't make them like this anymore since the end of the Second Age."

Anna smiled inwardly as she rose from her seat. It was a rare thing to see the ever so stern Elvenking drift into a casual conversation about the quality of clothing. But the moment she slid her arms inside the sleeves and he accommodated the robe around her shoulders, she knew what he was talking about. It almost felt like wearing nothing at all, so soft and incredibly smooth that she just wanted to wrap her entire body in it, which she could have possibly done, considering that it was enormous compared to her petite frame.

"It looks really good on you," Thranduil said, suppressing a smile, "a bit on the roomy side maybe, but the colour brings out the green of your eyes in the most lovely way." He tugged at the collar and smoothed down some creases, which Anna was quite convinced were only imaginary ones, as the robe looked in pristine condition despite its alleged age. She looked herself up and down a bit unsure, trying to locate her hands, which seemed to have gotten lost inside the sleeves.

"Well, it does feel very comfortable indeed, so thank you very much for allowing me to use it."

He beamed at her, rubbing his hands together. "You are very welcome. Does that mean we are all set for dinner? It would be a shame to have the kitchens' work go to nothing." He looked at her expectantly and she said: "Yes, all set indeed."

He offered her his arm and led her towards the small oval shaped dining table at the back of his chambers, candles lining their path and decorating the table, which was laden with a delicious assortment of dishes, the aforementioned venison being only one among many. Garlands of holly snaked themselves between small wooden bowls that were filled to the brim with dark blue and red berries, as well as bowls filled with steaming hot soup, baskets with bread rolls, plates with slices of ham and cheese, not to forget elegant goblets and several carafes filled with wine and water. Once they were both seated on either side of the table, Thranduil raised his glass of wine towards her.

"Thank you for being my guest tonight. I haven't had such a charming lady keeping me company in my chambers for quite a long time. May this dinner be the first of many we will share."

Anna reached for her own glass of wine, veering at the last moment towards the one with water instead and rose it up too. "Thank you for being such a generous host and for not throwing me out," she said with an awkward grin. "I do look forward to being invited more often to your chambers."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows half amused. "No need to worry about the wine, I assure you this is just regular Dorwinion, no magic involved. It is one of my best though, my favourite vintage. I am sure you will find it pleasant." He brought his glass to his mouth and took a small sip, but Anna was not in the mood for elvish wine tonight.

"Thank you, but water will do perfectly fine," she said.

"There is also tea with honey for you, should you prefer something hot and sweet to warm you up," he said, his eyes travelling to a nicely rounded teapot to her left side. He then pointed at a richly adorned plate with his fork. "And please do try the venison. It is one I have hunted myself and I daresay it shall delight your palate." He had indeed spared no effort to make this dinner special for her.

With so many things to choose Anna decided to simply serve herself small helpings of everything, the hot soup starting to warm her insides in the most welcome way. Thranduil himself seemed to be genuinely hungry, as he was for a while just quietly attending his own food, elegantly cutting the meat into small pieces. Anna was halfway through her second bread roll when Thranduil set aside his cutlery and reached for his glass of wine, taking a slow sip from it. For a moment he seemed to study the content of his glass, only to set it back on the table with a sigh. Anna felt his gaze resting on her. "I promise I will get to the venison, but these bread rolls are delicious," she said, stuffing the rest of it into her mouth.

"There is still something about bringing back your memory that you should know."

"Yes?" A feeling of unease crept up on her as she skewered a piece of meat with her fork.

"I do not wish to dampen your spirits, but there is a possible risk involved."

"A risk?" Anna almost choked on the piece of meat in her mouth. She dropped her fork and grabbed the glass of water, taking some frantic gulps until the lump in her throat had disappeared.

His lips were a thin line and his eyes were fixed on a point behind Anna's shoulder. "As your old memories come back, your new ones might fade."

Anna stared at him incredulously. She suddenly seemed to have completely lost her appetite. "What?" she said, the sea of candles around her melting into one big fire that threatened to consume her. "You mean to say I would forget —," she started, but broke off again, sinking back into her seat. She felt like suffocating and her heartbeat froze before it plunged into a frantic staccato.

He nodded slowly, his long fingers resting on the base of his glass and his voice grave. "I am not saying that this will happen, but it is a possibility."

"But how likely is this, — this complication? Please tell me this is a rare thing!" She twisted her napkin in her hands until it threatened to rip apart.

"I do not know as it does depend on various factors, like the skill of the person performing the spell, but also the recipient."

"But—, but you are the Elvenking, you surely can do this." She dropped the napkin, leaning forward again, her eyes now fixed on his face. "I mean you had no problem performing the initial spell to erase my memory, so why would this one be so different? You just have to revert it!" Anna was beginning to talk herself into a desperate rage, feeling once again trapped, the way out turning into a dead-end.

Thranduil drew his eyebrows together in a frown and for a moment she meant to see anger in his eyes, but it might have just been the flickering candles playing tricks on her eyesight.

"It is not as easy as that. I don't know what exactly Brethilwen has told you, but I cannot simply revert the spell. It is a bit more complex than that," he said, absentmindedly toying with the delicate flower ring he now wore regularly besides his other magnificent rings.

"Brethilwen did not give me any details, but she didn't make it sound so difficult." Anna sank back into her chair. "If it's me you are worried about, then I can promise you that I will do everything necessary from my side to make it work, if there is anything I can do to contribute."

"Of course it is you I worry about. First of all you have ended up in this situation because of my doing and second," he paused to look at her and his eyes softened, "I have come to care about you much more than I had ever thought possible and I want to be sure not to cause you even more pain and suffering." He pushed away his plate and leaned forward, steepling his fingers under his chin, the strands of his silvery blond hair cascading around his face.

"What Brethilwen failed to tell you is that, if the person's connection with their past is stronger than with their present, then everything that belongs to their new life might eventually fade and be forgotten."

"But why? This makes no sense! Why would I lose one thing in exchange for another?" She pulled Thranduil's robe tighter around her shoulders, but not even that would keep the chill away that crept into her heart.

"It might not make any sense to you at this moment, but no heart can live in two worlds at the same time. You must know that even if you are able to regain the memory of your former life and keep the one of the life you have here, it will put an immense strain on you. There are only few who can withstand this. It is as if your heart would be split in two and it would want to pull you towards both sides. There will come a point where you will have to take a decision, otherwise it might tear you apart."

For a moment Anna only stared at him in silence as she digested his words and then she nodded, slowly but with assurance. "I understand," she said, even if the extent of what he just had said was slow in sinking in. She pushed her chin forward, a resolution growing inside her. "No matter the risk, I will want to regain my memory. Only then can I know what will be my decision." Now that she had said it out loud, her path seemed to be set.

He leaned back in his seat and folded his hands in his lap, a shadow darkening his beautiful features. "I know that this is what you want, but please try to understand that I only wish to protect you from harm."

Anna nodded. "Yes, I know and I appreciate that, but I must do this."

Thranduil picked up his glass of wine again, slowly swirling the contents inside it, and then he looked at her again. "But I do know of someone who could shed some light on the darkness that surrounds your past. And who might be able to help you with your predicament."

"You do indeed?" A timid ray of hope dawned on the gloomy horizon of the terrible mess that her life had become.

"Yes, and as a matter of fact he is on his way to Mirkwood right now and should be here in a few days time. His name is Mithrandir, or Gandalf as he is known in the tongue of Men. He has travelled the world and beyond. Between the worlds he even meanders, that is ours and yours to be precise and he has extensive knowledge of enchantments and spells that even might surpass my own."

"Gandalf?" she repeated. "He will be coming here?" Her eyes went wide and then a sudden blush coloured her cheeks, remembering that she had never revealed to him the fact that she had considered finding the wizard herself.

"Yes, he is. I may not be overly fond of the ever meddlesome wizard, but for you I am willing to lay aside my animosities as this is a matter of great importance."

"Thank you," she said in a small voice. "I don't know if Bilbo has mentioned anything, but I was going to—,"

"Yes, he has told me about your plans." He took the words right out of her mouth. "But there is no need to explain yourself. I understand that you only wanted to find answers to your questions. Answers that I have failed to give you. And for that I am truly sorry. I did not intend to keep you in the dark for so long and I want to be sure that from now on things will be different."

Anna nodded, somewhat hopeful that soon the doors to her past and future would finally be pushed open.

Both of them might have lost track of time as they finally turned their attention back to the food and their conversation drifted into lighter regions, Thranduil giving her details about said hunt, which had provided for this night's venison and then elaborating further on what made tailors of the Second Age superior to those of today. Anna took delight in just being able to listen to him, his voice the most musical sound to her ears, and as the evening advanced and they had made their way to the desserts, she found herself wishing that this moment might never come to an end. Only when Anna had to repeatedly suppress a yawn did she realise that they must have sat for hours immersed in their conversation and Thranduil finally rose from his seat.

* * *

"Would you allow me to walk you back to your rooms?" he said, holding out his arm to her.

"Yes, of course, I would be honoured," she nodded, pulling up the sleeves of Thranduil's robe, which kept sliding over her hands. She laid her hand on his arm and as they crossed his chambers the light had dimmed considerably, many of the candles having burned down already, bathing the room in a subdued light. He halted at the concealed door, holding up the tapestry for her to step through, the robe trailing behind her like a rippling sea of green and silver.

"There is one more thing before you go to sleep tonight." He caught her wrist with his hand to pull her around until she stood facing him, the curve of his neck suddenly so incredibly close that her breath caught in her throat.

"Last morning we were so rudely interrupted," he said, placing one finger under her chin to tilt it up towards him, his other hand snaking around her waist to tug her even closer. She couldn't have been sure, but she might have stopped breathing altogether with him towering above her, imposing and a bit unsure all at once. Slowly his hand travelled up from her waist to the back of her head where he threaded it through her hair, while the long fingers of his other hand trailed over her neck down to her collarbone, gooseflesh rising in the wake of his touch. He leaned down, his breath mingling with hers, his voice flowing like molten gold around her.

"I wanted to…," he began, his eyes searching hers.

She only whispered "yes" and then he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss, so slow and tender Anna thought she would melt into him. Thranduil might have been a warrior and conqueror, at times wild and untamed, but now he was none of that. His lips were warm and soft on her own, tasting and exploring, and all she could do was hold on to his broad shoulders to keep herself from falling apart. She felt the outline of his toned chest beneath his thin tunic, his heartbeat hammering rapidly against her own. Again and again he kissed her as if he wanted to memorise the taste of her lips on his. A delicious tingle spread through Anna's body, filling her darkness with a dazzling light, and she knew that if he had wanted to deepen the kiss, she wouldn't have had any willpower left to resist. But at no moment did he lose control or try to push further, his touch staying gentle and featherlike all the way through. If this was any indication of what else his mouth was capable of doing if he ever let go of his restraint, she wished for nothing more than to witness exactly that.

He pulled away to look at her, his thumbs caressing her flushed cheeks. "Please don't leave," he pleaded. His breath was warm and sweet like the forest in springtime and she was swept away by an overwhelming wave of emotions.

"I don't want to leave," she said breathlessly, her hands finding their way around his neck.

"Then stay," he murmured, scattering a string of tender kisses from the corner of her mouth towards her ear.

All she could do was nod, even though she knew that fate might have a heartbreaking decision for them in store. But at this moment nothing of it all mattered anymore. There was only Thranduil and his lips on her lips, his hands holding her and even if the world came to an end right after this, she would gladly face death with a smile.

"My little flower," he said softly, and then his lips found hers in another kiss. There was a fire in him that could burn her if she allowed it, dangerous, ancient and powerful, and when he held her close, Anna drowned in starlit bliss, an exhilarating promise of sweeter things still to come.

When finally their lips parted after yet another kiss and then another one, the imprint of his touch still burned on her skin and Thranduil's eyes were dark with desire, but this was a line he wouldn't cross, not tonight.

"No matter what the future may bring, I will cherish this moment, our kiss, forever," he said, cupping her face in his hands.

Tears stood in her eyes. "What if I forget—," she broke off, this one dreadful thought haunting her.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face and his voice was raw with emotion. "Don't even think it, _lotheg nín._ I promise you that I will make it right."

With a small sigh she nestled her face against the crook of his neck, the comfort of his arms making her feel safe when nothing else could.

* * *

They stood for a while in a wordless embrace, oblivious of the world around them as they revelled in their newfound intimacy, until Thranduil murmured softly into her hair "It is getting late and you should rest now."

"I am not sleepy," Anna mumbled into his chest, burying her face still deeper between the folds of his tunic and the strands of his hair. Only when he shifted away, she finally disentangled herself from him, the thought of having to exchange his nearness for the loneliness of her bed not anything she was particularly looking forward to. His robe had slid down her shoulders and he pulled it back in place and then he caught her chin in his hand to make her look up to him.

"Don't forget that you are still recovering, although I have to say that you do look much better already."

Anna's cheeks coloured and he couldn't help but observe how the pinkish hue brought out the dusting of freckles in the most delightful way.

"You should probably kiss me more often," she said, bringing her mouth closer to his. "I think that will help me get better."

"That is a thought worth considering," he said, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, and then he gently kissed her mouth once more, planting tender kisses on her nose and her cheeks before finally letting go of her.

"Oh, but your robe, I almost forgot," Anna said, suddenly aware that she was still wearing it. Somewhat reluctantly she proceeded to take it off and hand it back to him.

"No, you keep it," he said, stopping her motions and then brushing off some breadcrumbs from the sleeves. "It looks better on you than on me, besides I have plenty of others to choose." He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Although we might need to have it adjusted to better fit your size."

"Really? You are serious? I thought this one was special for you." She had always believed Thranduil to be very much attached to the entirety of his glorious wardrobe.

"It is special indeed. That is why I want you to have it. And it is only a piece of clothing after all, so please accept my gift. Tomorrow I will order for the seamstress to take your measurements, so she might do the necessary adjustments."

"Thank you, my king," Anna said, curtsying politely, his robe sweeping the floor around her as she did so.

"I think it is time that you called me Thranduil," he said, taking both of her hands in his and planting tender kisses on the soft skin inside of her wrists, "and I am looking forward to learning your name, although I could get used to calling you my little flower."

"Thranduil," she said, letting the word roll off her tongue with gusto. "That's a very nice name."

He tilted his head sideways in a regal manner. "I am glad you think so as it is the only one I have to offer."

He graced her with one of those open smiles that were so rare, but suited him so well, and Anna couldn't help but smile in return, no matter how dreary her future might look. At this very moment she was content just being Thranduil's little flower.

After he bade her goodnight, Anna stood in the middle of her room, wrapped in his oversized robe and watched him walk away, and her heart gave an almost painful squeeze in her chest. Even without his kingly attire and his hair a bit messy he had an aura of ethereal beauty surrounding him that nearly took her breath away. She buried her nose in the folds of his robe and to her delight it smelled just like him. So her night would not be quite as lonely as she had feared. He stepped through the concealed door and then disappeared from her sight, but the door behind him, he left it open.

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _lotheg nín_ \- my little flower

 _ellon_ \- male elf

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Sooooooo, how do we all feel now that they have finally kissed?! Took them 30 chapters to get there, but I hope that the kiss was worth the wait. I wanted it to be gentle and tender, even still a bit shy ;)! And I think Thranduil did good with his apology. But there is yet another obstacle Anna has to face. Let's hope that Gandalf is here to help!**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for chapter 31^^!**


	32. Patience and Resolve

**A BIG thank you to all those wonderful people who have reviewed the previous chapter: BlueLunarRose, RubberDuckiez, dreamgoneby, Cyberneko89, thrndlwood, Averlovi, DeLacus and 2 guests!**

 **Thank you also to all those who have favourited and/or followed my story. I am really grateful that you like my story so much! THANK YOU!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter it is with Anna eagerly awaiting the elven army and with them the fabled wizard, but also wishing for Thranduil's embrace and that wickedly skilful mouth of his ...**

* * *

 _Chapter 31 - Patience and Resolve_

 _What if we welcomed change in,_

 _Or opened up just enough_

 _To let it begin?_

(Sleeping At Last: Resolve.)

The open door between the two royal chambers remained the topic of many curious conversations in the palace over the course of the next few days. When Thranduil had ordered for the tapestry with the stag to be hung on the opposite wall and the seamstress was called to adjust the king's old robe to fit Anna's size, it seemed that a fresh breeze was slowly but surely sweeping away the dust of centuries from those ancient halls of the Woodland Realm. Anna herself would have been perfectly content to remain in that joyous bubble that was the first kiss she had shared with Thranduil. If it had been up to her, she would have wanted to stay forever wrapped up in his arms, their locked lips the only thing that mattered in this world or any other. But of course she knew that this was a wish that was as desirable as it was unrealistic, so she turned her attention to what lay ahead. It had become obvious that her medical condition had improved significantly, so neither Thranduil nor Brethilwen kept enforcing their previous rigorous rules of confining Anna to her bed. Apparently all it had taken was a little bit of tenderness from the Elvenking, so Thranduil made good on his promise to kiss her ever so often, filling their days with sweet moments of intimacy. She was grateful for every single one of them, even if they were just brief, due to the many obligations Thranduil had to attend to in preparation for the arrivals from Dale. To her delight she had been given leave to not only move around freely in her own rooms, but she had also been granted access to Thranduil's chambers, within reasonable limitations of course. After all, he was the king and that extended even to the privacy of his chambers, where meetings were held, politics discussed and decisions taken regarding the safety of his lands. He had not forbidden her to partake in any of these matters, but she felt that this was something she had no right to interfere with. And even if the thought of sneaking into his bedchambers in the dead of night might have been very tempting, she adhered to the rules, just like he did too, never making an inappropriate attempt to push too far, but rather allowing their tender bond the time it needed to grow.

Anna waited anxiously for the return of the elven army and with them the fabled wizard, who finally might unlock her path towards a possible future by helping her recover her past. What she would barely even admit to herself was that, alongside her excitement, the fear of what the uncovering of her past might bring also grew. Now that she had this precious memory of their kiss to cherish, she was even more terrified of losing this beautiful moment. And for what? To regain an uncertain past? Memories she might not even want to see? What if there was terror awaiting her and she gave away her present life for nothing? She did not want to confide her mounting worries in Thranduil, because she feared that this would only reenforce his wish that she remained oblivious of her past. The reluctance on his face, when she had asked him to perform the spell to bring back her memories, had been all too obvious and she knew that if he would see her wavering in her resolve, it might make him want to persuade her to change her mind at the last moment.

Her patience was tried dearly as those days seemed to fill with endless hours of fruitless waiting, still being confined to the royal chambers. So one lazy morning, when her eyes caught sight of Thranduil's book on her bedside table, an idea started taking shape in her head. A vague shadow at first, it quickly grew into a potpourri of colourful images. She reached for the book and the wooden box and settled at a small desk beside the bookshelf, which allowed her to overlook the ever murmuring fountain that fed her small pool. She placed the book in front of her and the wooden box beside it. For a moment she laid one hand on top of the cover, closed her eyes, enjoying the smoothness and warmth of the supple leather and then she clicked open the box, diligently placing the ink jar on the desk to then remove the quill from its silken bedding. Absentmindedly she stroked her cheek with the feathery tip and then a small smile dawned on her face. A scene had begun to form in her mind's eye, so she opened the book, dipped the quill into the ink and began to write, smooth and curvy letters blossoming on the white parchment. It did not take long for the first sentence to be accompanied by another and the blank pages filled with new life rather quickly. She was going to make good use of Thranduil's gift. The hours flew by and she had to ask Brethilwen for a refill of her ink jar more than once.

* * *

As the late afternoon of the fourth day of waiting drew to an end, Anna was sitting again at her desk, when Thranduil suddenly strode into her rooms, urgency leading him on. She looked up from her writings, smoothing her hair away from her face, surprised to find him in a state of unusual agitation.

"How long do you need to be ready?" he asked the moment he had spotted her, a slight edge to his voice.

Anna peered at him curiously, her quill still hovering above the book. "Ready for what?"

"They will be here before nightfall," he said, "and I want you to accompany me to meet my son at the gates upon his arrival."

"So soon?" she said bluntly. Despite her earlier impatience this took her now completely by surprise.

"Not any moment too soon," he stated as a matter of factly. "And if I am not mistaken you seemed quite eager for this moment to come."

"Yes, I know, it's just that I —, maybe it is better that I wait here." She laid down the quill, her eyes not quite meeting his gaze.

"And why would you want to do that?" Thranduil seemed taken aback.

"Well, I thought I was still not to leave these chambers," she said slightly evasive.

"That is true indeed," he said, stepping closer and placing his flat palms on the desk in front of her, "but you are allowed to go wherever you please as long as you are with me." He glanced briefly at the book and Anna closed it with one swift motion. This wasn't for anyone to see, at least not yet.

"But I am not—," she broke off, quickly hiding her hands under the table when she realised that her fingers were full of ink stains.

"Not what?" he picked up her words.

She shifted in her seat. "Well, I am not anyone official. I am not part of the royal household." She twisted her hands in her lap. "I am not even an elf, only a human."

"Stop using that as an excuse for everything!" he said sternly, the open collar of his robe exposing his neck as he leaned closer. "I want you by my side. That should be enough."

She nodded, still not quite convinced. "But what will people think?" she said in a small voice, gnawing at her lower lip and laying her forehead in wrinkles.

"Why does it matter to you what they might think?" He drew his eyebrows together in a frown. "I am their king and I choose who is to be with me. And it is you I want."

The determination in his words made it quite clear that he craved her company in more ways than just one. "Besides," he said, rounding the table and pulling her up from her seat so she stood facing him, his fingers tipping her chin up, "this is an order and you wouldn't want to defy your king's command now, would you?"

She leaned backwards against the edge of the table, the challenging tone in his voice awakening her spirit of contradiction. "What if I were to do so?"

He wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her closer in one possessive motion until his face hovered above hers, their lips nearly touching. "If you were to defy my orders so brazenly," he said, enunciating every word clearly, "then I would need to think on ways how to punish you for your disobedience." A smirk dawned on his face as he tightened his grip on her. "And although that is a thought undeniably tempting and possibly worth exploring, I rather have you join me by your own free will."

"Of course," she breathed, his playfulness igniting a fire inside her, "how could I disobey your command when you are being so very persuasive."

"Good," he said, his hands trailing up from her waist to the nape of her neck, long fingers weaving through her hair, "I'm glad we have that settled."

He tilted her head back, and then he pressed his lips against the sensitive skin right under her ear. A shiver went through Anna's body, her pulse racing, as he scattered fluttery kisses along her neck, curving upwards to plant another slow kiss under her other ear.

"And wear the pearl necklace," he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of her ear. "Not only would it please me greatly to see you wearing it, but I am quite sure that a certain hobbit would be delighted too."

"Bilbo is coming too?" she said, his words suddenly rousing her from the cloud of delightful pleasures his lips were bestowing upon her.

"Yes, he is." Thranduil pulled away to look at her face, his fingers gently combing through her disarrayed hair. "Apparently he is never far from the wizard." He quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

Anna looked herself up and down to where her newly acquired robe was tied loosely over her linen tunic, "But I cannot go like this," she said, twisting a strand of her hair in between her fingers, "my hair is a mess and I've gotten ink all over my fingers." She cast a wry glance at her hands.

"Not only your fingers." Thranduil bit back a grin.

"What do you mean, not only my fingers? Do I have something on my face too?" She blinked, slightly irritated by his amused stare.

"Indeed you do," he said, pointing an elegant finger at her forehead.

"Where?" She brought her hand to her forehead, but Thranduil caught her wrist with his own hand. "Better don't touch it, because you will just smear it," he said, adding in a deadpan voice: "You do know that you are supposed to write with the quill and not with your fingers?"

"I know that!" she exclaimed, "and I am using the quill!"

"Well, it doesn't look like you do," he said, breaking into an amused chuckle and letting go of her hands. "You are just like Legolas when he was little." He leaned against the bookshelf, his arms folded casually in front of his chest. "Every time he would write, he used to end up with more ink on his face and hands than on the parchment. His sloppiness used to drive his tutors insane, although I am pretty sure he must have thoroughly enjoyed himself, knowing that they would eventually give up, exasperated, and allow him to exchange the books for his bow, which of course had been his plan all along."

Anna couldn't help but laugh. "Sounds like a smart plan to me."

"Oh it was and it almost never failed. I believe that there must be at least one example of his writing attempts hidden amongst these books." He turned around towards the shelf as he spoke, tapping several books with his fingertips until he found what he was looking for.

"Yes, here it is," he said, pulling out a thin volume from within a larger one, bound in simple black leather and placing it on the table beside Anna's book. "Take a look," he said with an inviting nod.

Anna did as she was told and when she opened the book and browsed through the pages, she saw Thranduil's vivid description confirmed, blotted pages with stains where there should have been neat handwriting, but to her surprise she also found that Legolas had filled many pages with drawings that brimmed over with an obvious comic talent. When she stumbled upon an especially grim looking specimen of what could only have been one of his tutors throwing a fit of madness, she giggled and looked up to Thranduil: "Well, Legolas might not have been good at writing, but he definitely had a penchant for drawing. These are really good, although the ones depicted might not have found them particularly flattering."

"No, they were most certainly not amused, especially not this one," Thranduil smirked as he took another look at said drawing, "that's why we eventually had to hide these masterpieces from his tutors, who probably would have very much desired to cast all of them into the fires of Mount Doom."

"I bet they did!" Anna closed the book with a snort as she imagined the bewildered faces of Legolas' tutors, and handed it back to Thranduil. Countless hours spent in the library had taught her that this mountain was the most unwanted and possibly hottest place imaginable in all of Middle-earth. A perfect place to dispose of unflattering images.

"But in the end he mostly got away unscathed." He took the book from her and placed it back on the shelf. "He had perfected the use of his charm to his advantage at an early age, so the poor tutors were basically helpless against his overwhelming powers." The smugness in his voice made her chuckle.

"I wonder where he got that from?" She threw him a coquettish glance.

"Well, don't look at me!" Thranduil's face was as innocent as freshly fallen snow. "I was a most obedient and dutiful elfling in my youth."

"Sure and you most certainly have never ever used your charm to get what you wanted." She jabbed one of her ink stained fingers towards his chest.

He straightened himself, assuming a regal posture. "Never! After all I am the king and I always get what I want. I don't need my charm for that."

"Oh, but I quite like it when you use your charm. It suits you very well." She snuggled against his chest, revelling in his warmth and inhaling the sweetness of his scent, and he closed his arms around her in a tender embrace, the music of their beating hearts filling the silence around them.

"We must not tarry any longer," he said after a long moment that was still too short, planting a kiss atop her hair and she reluctantly freed herself from his hold. "Let Brethilwen take care of your necessary preparations, including this," he said, brushing his thumb across her forehead, "and meet me in my chambers when you are all set." He turned around on his heels, leaving Anna behind in a state of nervous excitement.

* * *

Brethilwen appeared not long after with a luxurious platinum grey dress in hands. It was of a heavy brocade fabric, embroidered with a delicate pattern of silver wintry leaves all over the bodice as well as the length of the full skirt, a wide belt in silver slung around the waist, coiling vines snaking themselves along the trimmings, intricate adornments of white lace accenting the curved neckline.

"This is what I am supposed to wear?" Anna swallowed, not even daring to touch the gown with her ink stained fingers.

"Yes, the king personally requested that you wear this," Brethilwen said, carefully laying out the garment for Anna on her bed. "And he reminded me not to forget the pearl necklace." Brethilwen pulled out the upper drawer of the small ebony armoire at the foot end of Anna's bed, removing the necklace from its velvet bedding.

Anna still couldn't tear her eyes off the dress and when she made no motion to change, Brethilwen frowned. "Don't you like it?"

"Yes, I do. It's beautiful, regal almost, and so very different from what I have been wearing lately, well, as a matter of fact, from what I have ever worn in my time here." With a wry smile she pulled at her simple yet comfortable tunic underneath her robe.

Brethilwen stood with her arms akimbo, throwing Anna a measured glance. "Then it's about time you start wearing nice dresses and if you are to appear in the king's company, you must be appropriately dressed. This one will fit you perfectly, you'll see. But we should better get started. The king does not appreciate to be kept waiting, especially now that he is expecting to meet his son again."

Anna nodded, obediently untying her robe and handing it to Brethilwen, who eyed her face and hands with a frown. "And those ink stains will have to come off first." Brethilwen sighed, turning towards the pool to retrieve a washcloth.

Despite the elaborateness of Anna's dress, Brethilwen worked with surprising speed. After she had sufficiently freed Anna of all stains, she carefully brushed her hair until it fell in sleek honey coloured strands down her back. When she then pulled the dress over Anna's thin linen tunic and proceeded to tie the laces in the back, Anna barely could take her eyes off herself in the mirror. She felt considerably strange, but also distinctly proud that Thranduil had wanted her by his side and that he had given so much thought on how to bring out her features in the most subtle way. She wasn't a stunning beauty, especially compared to the elves, that were all of an ethereal beauty which was impossible to match. But she did have a pleasant appearance, her green eyes glowing in anticipation and she even had learned to appreciate her freckles after Thranduil had confessed to her how much he adored them, insisting that one day he would take the time to kiss every single one of them.

* * *

When Anna was all set and Brethilwen had finally ushered her through the concealed door into Thranduil's chambers, she caught sight of him sitting in front of his tall mirror, a servant diligently adjusting the fit of his crown, until the ivy leaves stood once again in pristine alignment. He then rose from his seat, and two other servants, who had been waiting with his silvery cloak in their hands, approached him from behind to drape the heavy garment around his shoulders. Some final touches were given to his hair, which fell in thick strands down to the middle of his back. Even from behind he looked every bit the fabulous Elvenking he was, majestic and awe-inspiring, his cloak flowing around him in abundant waves. Upon a flick of Thranduil's hand the servants interrupted their tasks, retreating simultaneously from him and when he turned around in one graceful motion, his stunning appearance left her nearly breathless. Beneath his silver cloak he wore an exquisite robe of charcoal grey, just a shade darker than Anna's dress, the familiar spider brooch resting beneath the high open collar, dark grey leggings tucked into tall black leather boots.

"Come closer," he said with a generous smile, languidly twisting the rings on his fingers until their fit seemed to be sufficiently satisfying.

She approached him slowly, the long trail of her dress rustling with every step, and her cheeks growing uncomfortably hot beneath his testing gaze. What if he wasn't satisfied with the way she looked? There was no way she could ever be nearly half as elegant as him. When she stood directly before him, she lowered her head, staring at the floor between them. Over the course of the last few days she had gotten used to his slightly more casual robes and seeing him now again in all his kingly glory, he appeared considerably intimidating. The pointed crown atop his head added to his already impressive height and made Anna feel even smaller in his presence. He rounded her, appraising her silently, and Anna could have sworn that he was enjoying himself greatly, while she struggled to maintain her composure, her heart pounding madly in her chest. He stopped right behind her, leaning closer and his breath on her neck made the little hairs stand on end.

"You look lovely," he whispered into her ear and then he produced a small package from the folds of his robe and handed it to her. "Open it up," he said, standing now beside her and looking at her expectantly.

She hesitantly extended her hands towards the small box and clicked it open. Bedded atop a lining of blood red silk lay two perfect pearl earrings to match her necklace. A small gasp escaped her and when she looked up into his face there was an excited gleam in his eyes.

"I want you to wear those," he said, removing them swiftly from the box and fitting them both to her ears with skilled fingers.

"Thank you," she murmured, slightly overwhelmed by all this sudden attention given to her appearance.

Although Brethilwen had been kind enough to provide her with a rough overview of what was expected of her in the company of the Elvenking, the prospect of royal protocol ahead admittedly terrified her. She brought her hands to her ears and then allowed her fingers to glide over the necklace, to then smooth the bodice of her dress in an attempt to calm herself.

"Nervous?" he said, tugging at the folds of his own cloak to adjust it.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked, her shoulders sinking.

"Only a little bit," he retorted dryly, "but no need to be afraid, just hold your head high and follow my lead."

She took a deep breath and nodded slowly, hoping that she would not disappoint him. "I'll do my best."

"I know you will. Legolas will be very pleased to see you with me." He held out his arm to her with an encouraging smile and when she finally laid her hand on his arm, her fingers were trembling less than what she had expected.

* * *

The doors of his chambers swung open and with resolve in her step and as much gracefulness as she could muster, Anna walked beside Thranduil, who seemed to glide along with effortless ease despite his heavy robes. The hallways were flooded with amber lights and had filled up with what seemed most of the populace of the palace, uncountable pairs of curious eyes following Anna and the king as they emerged from the royal wing and headed at a measured pace towards the pathways leading to the gates, two guards always closely behind them. Anna had not seen the palace in such a state of excited bustle since the days preceding Thranduil's departure to the Mountain, even though now there was possibly only half the amount of people it had held in those days. There were elves with solemn faces standing in small groups, speaking in hushed voices, fathers cradling tiny elflings in their arms, many of them yawning and obviously fighting sleep, older children clinging to their mothers' hands in anxious excitement and staring with big eyes at the illustrious couple passing them. Anna spotted the familiar faces of several healers that were preparing themselves for those that would still need treatment, and the closer they got to the entrance the more crowded the hallways became, but they navigated the parting crowds with ease, everyone obediently making way for their king. A circular area in front of the gates had been cleared for them, the waiting elves filling the sidelines, the ones in the back craning their necks to get a better look not only at the king and his companion, but also at the homecoming soldiers.

When finally the gates were being pulled open at Thranduil's command, an icy gust of wintry air greeted them, a flurry of snowflakes stirred up by the countless feet approaching the bridge and Anna soon realised that this whole endeavour would neither be quick nor particularly glorious. The arrival of an entire army was not something that would pass off in a few hours time, but was a rather slow, laborious and chaotic process, until every last warrior, animal and weapon was tended to, stowed away and mended. And even with Anna's very limited knowledge and even less experience concerning warfare, one glance was enough to reveal that warriors returning after battle were a much less glorious sight than their departure, even if they had emerged victorious. An aura of heaviness preceded the elves, the ghostly steps of those that were missing accompanying them. These were the shadows of the dead, the ones that had fallen in battle and would now travel to the Halls of Mandos, never to return to the lands of Middle-earth, but would await the reunion with their families on the shores of Valinor.

Anna threw a quick sideways glance to Thranduil, who stood beside her like a carven statue, completely motionless and not a muscle in his face betraying the tiniest flicker of emotion, while Anna had to conjure up all her countenance to remain impassive in the face of the oncoming wave of people and the ever mounting excited chatter all around them. Despite the onset of night and the descending darkness she now clearly recognised those in the vanguard of the elven army, a head of golden hair with a red-headed warrior beside leaving no doubt about their identity. Right behind them walked an odd sized pair of someone very small, the person's body almost completely hidden from view, and by his side a considerably tall person, the tip of a pointy hat towering even above the elves around him. This could only mean one thing. These had to be Bilbo and the wizard! Anna's heart was racing at the prospect of seeing Bilbo again and then finally meeting the one who held the key to her fate in his hands. She simultaneously felt her knees growing weak and a smile dawning on her face, her resolve to uphold her poise wavering. She had to suppress the desire to break away from Thranduil and barge forward to offer everyone a friendly welcome, consisting either of a warm hug or at least a heartfelt handshake, both things completely unelvish and unroyal. Besides she would be also breaking the first and foremost rule of protocol, which granted the king alone the right to make any type of first move, however bold or unusual it might be. And although she was neither an elf nor royalty, Thranduil had left no doubt that he trusted her to take her place beside him with the necessary dignity and appropriate demeanour, both things she felt she still needed to work on. She closed her fingers tightly around Thranduil's arm, hoping that some of his steadfastness would somehow magically flow into her, so she might get through this without showing any weakness or embarrassing herself.

When Thranduil still did not move beside her, despite his son now having walked up to them and motioning to greet his father in the traditional elven way of placing his right hand over his heart, she feared for a moment that the king might not reciprocate the greeting, or might have even regretted his decision to meet his son at the gates. She held her breath, her eyes darting from father to son and a myriad of unspoken words seemed to pass between them and only when the tension had reached unbearable heights and the crowd had fallen completely silent, did Thranduil finally move, closing the gap between them with one swift stride and pulling Legolas into an unexpected embrace.

" _Na vedui, iôn-nín_!" she heard him whisper into his son's hair as they stood in a tight hug, the prince's arms now also finding their way around his father's body. A murmur went through the crowd and on their faces was relief and delight at the fact that the reconciliation of king and prince was no longer only a rumour.

"You look well, my son," Thranduil said with an appreciative nod as he pulled away from Legolas, laying both hands on his son's shoulders. "It seems that taking over responsibilities has done you good."

Legolas beamed at his father. "I believe it has," and with a sideways glance at Anna he added, "and it seems that loosening the reins has been good for you too."

"Yes, it has," Thranduil now turned towards Anna with a smile, "and very much so."

With a small gesture of his hand Thranduil indicated that it was now Anna's turn to greet Legolas. She did not need any more encouragement to follow Thranduil's example and soon the prince found himself pulled into yet another hug, not that he seemed to mind.

"Welcome back, Legolas," she said, "you have been sorely missed and dearly expected."

His open smile turned for a moment into a worried frown. "I am glad to see that you are well again. My father's messengers have informed me of your unfortunate incident with those nasty spiders."

"Well, it was very foolish of me to think that I could have crossed Mirkwood all by myself and if it hadn't been for your father's bravery, I would not be standing here today."

She reached for Thranduil's arm beside her as a sudden wave of gratefulness washed over her. "I owe your father my life," she said, her eyes still fixed on Legolas' face.

Thranduil placed his own hand atop hers, his voice solemn. "I only did what my heart commanded me to do. But let us not speak of this now, as there are a multitude of issues that need attending."

Legolas nodded obediently and took his place on his father's left side. During all this conversation Tauriel had kept a respectful distance and only when Thranduil now bade her to step forward, did she do so, bowing before him.

"Tauriel, I am glad to see you back," he said, but his face remained impassive. "Still I have not forgotten your earlier disobedience," he said sternly. "You shall be summoned tomorrow morning for a disciplinary hearing."

"Yes, my lord," Tauriel said, her face not revealing neither resentment nor fear.

"And do not be late," Thranduil added, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course not," she said obediently. "I will be there whenever you will call for me." And with another curt bow and only a brief onset of a smile in Anna's direction she retreated towards the sidelines.

Finally Thranduil now proceeded to greet the wizard and the hobbit, who had been lingering behind Legolas and Tauriel, awaiting their turn to be welcomed by the Elvenking.

"My dear Mithrandir," he said, raising his right hand to his heart in reverence, "I bid you welcome. Long has it been since you last have been a guest in my halls and ever you appear when you are most needed and least expected."

Gandalf tilted his head and a warm smile broke through his tangled beard. "Thank you, King Thranduil, for your warm welcome. Indeed it has been too long that I have visited your halls, but not long enough to have forgotten their splendour, and of course the magnificent wine. I am very grateful for your hospitality and I am hoping to speak with you soon about matters of great importance."

Anna suddenly felt Gandalf's eyes dart towards her and there was something vaguely familiar about them, but she did not even have time to think about it, as Thranduil rose to speak again, drawing Gandalf's attention away from her.

"I am glad you remember my palace so fondly, especially the wine," he said slightly amused, "you will find that the hospitality of the Wood-elves has not lessened since your last visit." With a small nod in Anna's direction he said: "I want you to meet this lovely lady. I believe that you have heard of her already, but words do not do her justice. She has been the most delightful addition the Woodland Realm has seen in a very long time. And although she may have lost her name, she has her heart in the right place."

Anna felt the heat rise to her head at those words. Thranduil may have complimented her in private, but he had never let any of it be heard in public.

"It is a pleasure, my dear. I must say that what I have heard told of your beauty has been a grave understatement," Gandalf said with a twinkle in his eyes, "I can see now why the king has been so adamant about keeping you to himself."

"I am glad we finally meet," she said, trying not so sound too excited, "but I am sure that whatever tales you must have heard about my beauty must have been greatly exaggerated," was all she could think of, as she found herself facing this old wizard, who apparently was also unexpectedly versed in the art of complimenting.

Gandalf only smiled knowingly and then he stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper "And I promise you that I will do my best to get your little problem sorted. Finding a name is an easy task in comparison to finding a heart."

With a small wink he stepped back to then gently shove Bilbo towards the foreground. As always, the hobbit was barefoot, but the rest of his attire was of a much more elegant choice than the last time she had seen him and spoke of the possible riches he might have acquired on his quest. A dark blue waistcoat with a row of nicely polished brass buttons and brown breeches of a heavy cloth made him appear like a wealthy uncle coming to visit from a distant land.

"Master Baggins," Thranduil greeted Bilbo with a subtle raise of his hand, "I am glad to see that you have changed your mind about returning home and have accepted my offer to stay in my halls instead. You will see that it is a much more enjoyable affair when you do not need to hide from view."

"O great Elvenking," Bilbo bowed low, "I am grateful to be welcomed in your halls and I assure you, I do not plan on hiding this time," Bilbo pulled himself up to his full height and wrinkled his nose, "and it is not that I did not want to return home, I very much wish to be in Bag End again, but I thought to myself that seeing a friend may be more important than seeing my armchair. After all, I am pretty sure that my furniture and my books will still be there when I get back." With a smile that lit up his round face he turned towards Anna. "While you might not, if ever you should decide to resume your travelling. You know, Rivendell and so on, even the Shire maybe?" He suddenly reached for Anna's hand, patting it affectionately as if she were a long lost niece, who might finally be persuaded to come to visit her lonely and slightly odd uncle. "Which by the way, you would be welcome anytime. Oh, you must see the rolling hills, our beautiful gardens and the fragrant meadows. I am sure that you will love it! The best moment of course would be during springtime for the blooming of the flowers, or autumn after the harvest, or of course summer to taste all the ripe fruits. Well, basically any season that is not winter. That is, unless you were to prefer the cold of course." He squeezed her hand lightly. "We hobbits are known for being very hospitable and there is always plenty of food." He stood with a glorified smile on his face. Maybe he indeed was missing his home more than what he had been willing to show.

"I thank you very much for your kind offer, Bilbo," Anna said with a hesitant smile, "but I do not plan on leaving this place anytime soon." From the corner of her eye she could see Thranduil's face turning to ice.

"No, of course not! This is not what I meant! I would of course also extend my invitation to you, great Elvenking," Bilbo said slightly flustered, quickly letting go of Anna's hand as he was made aware of the king's darkening mood, "that is if you would want to travel together. You know, you and the king, going on a little adventure," he said, wagging his finger rather nervously. "My hobbit hole might not be an elven palace, but I daresay that it is the most luxurious one in all the local area and I could offer you both comfortable lodgings." Glancing at the towering Elvenking he added "Well, er, maybe for you it might be a bit tight as you are really very tall…," Bilbo's voice trailed off and his face had turned a rather dark shade of crimson. Gandalf was rubbing his hand over his face in exasperation and Anna had to quickly look away, stifling a laugh. If it weren't for her mounting feeling of pity for Bilbo in the face of Thranduil's obvious annoyance, this would have been highly amusing.

"We shall see about that, Master Baggins," Thranduil's voice had lost all warmth, "do not get ahead of yourself by extending unasked for invitations. As long as you are a visitor in my halls I do not wish to hear anything about travel plans involving my guest without consulting me in this matter. I do not take lightly to being sidestepped," Thranduil said, his lips a thin line.

Bilbo lowered his gaze and stared at his hairy feet, mumbling almost inaudibly "I am sorry, I was just—, I did not mean any offence."

"Of course, you didn't!" Gandalf exclaimed with a huff, stepping forward to pull Bilbo back by his collar rather gruffly and muttering something into his beard that sounded like 'fool' and 'Took'.

A moment of uncomfortable silence settled around them, the storm cloud of contained anger emanating from Thranduil filling the air with a chill, while Anna hoped for something to happen that would lighten the mood. When finally Thranduil raised his arms in a welcoming gesture to address his soldiers, there was a strangely muffled whimper coming from a small carriage right behind Gandalf and Bilbo, followed shortly after by a hearty sneeze. Whatever or whoever it was that produced those sounds was impossible to tell, as there was a thick blanket wrapped around what seemed to be a vigorously stirring bundle. Thranduil lowered his hands, slightly irritated by this unruly interruption, and Bilbo quickly took another step back, turning his head away as if he had developed a sudden interest in the carven columns beside him.

Apparently there was an unexpected visitor requesting admission to the halls of Mirkwood.

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _Na vedui!_ \- at last!

 _iôn-nín_ \- my son

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this latest chapter with a bit of teasing between Anna and Thranduil, a flash of little Leggy, gorgeous clothing and, well then there's Bilbo, who seems to have an uncanny ability to get on Thranduil's nerves XD. And who might that mysterious visitor be?!**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for chapter 32^^!**


	33. Royal Duties

**A BIG thank you goes out to the following lovely people for having reviewed the previous chapter: durinsdaughter2469btw, dreamgoneby, SilBellios (a special hug to you!), Raider-K, and 2 guests.**

 **Also as always I would like to thank each and everyone who has favourited and/or followed my story!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter it is! Let's find out, who that mysterious visitor is, shall we?**

* * *

 _Chapter 32 - Royal Duties_

Thranduil's hands sank to his sides and for a moment he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap them around the hilts of his swords, their polished metal the only thing to cool his boiling anger. Much to his regret he had left them behind in his chambers and it wasn't worth reaching for the small knife he wore concealed in his boot, so he resorted to what he knew worked just as well to intimidate anyone who dared to cross him. His jaw set square, his eyes had turned to glaciers and to his satisfaction Bilbo appeared truly frightened, slinking into the wizard's shadow, his hands gripping the cart's wooden handle. Thranduil had hoped this to be a smooth welcome of his son, but it was beginning to turn into a farce, and what irritated him even more was that the hobbit's obnoxious prattling seemed to greatly entertain Anna. From the corner of his eye he could see her rounded cheeks as she was struggling to contain her laughter, her body taut in an effort to maintain her composure. The crowd around them had fallen into an expectant silence, curious eyes darting from the king to the ominous cart as everyone awaited their monarch's next move. Whatever it was that loomed under that blanket now tried to wriggle itself free of its snuggly confinement, a vehement mewing accompanying its vigorous efforts. Thranduil knew those sounds all too well, and if he was not careful, his icy facade would melt like a patch of snow on the first warm day of spring.

"And what would you be hiding in this cart, Master Baggins? Are you trying to take advantage of my generosity?" His words cut through the silence with deadly precision. "Your old habit of being sneaky and stealthy appears hard to break, doesn't it?"

Bilbo opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, wordlessly lowering his gaze to the floor. He must have concluded that saying nothing at all might be the safest way for him to stay out of trouble. To Thranduil's surprise his own son suddenly came to the hobbit's rescue.

"Ada, please do spare the poor Master Baggins your anger, as this is not his doing, but mine." Legolas stepped forward with an apologetic glance, leaving Thranduil slightly baffled.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. "Your doing?"

But Legolas had already proceeded to pull the cart closer through the parting crowd, Tauriel swiftly taking a hold of the cart's rear. The fleeting smile between them did not escape Thranduil's notice.

"Yes." Legolas liberated the squirming creature and pointed with a formal gesture at the emerging ball of brown fur. "This, Ada, is Aradan," he said, reaching down and gently stroking the head of a small elk calf.

A gasp went through the rows of elves around them and Anna let out a squee of delight, quickly clasping her hand to her mouth when Thranduil shot her a reprimanding glance.

For a moment Thranduil said nothing and simply gazed at the small animal, which had risen from its makeshift bed out of moss and blankets and stood now on shaky legs, staring up at him through wide brown eyes that told him all he needed to know. They spoke of a terrible loss and the struggle for survival, but also of gratefulness and hope.

He nodded slowly, directing his gaze back to his son. "Aradan, you say? This is a name truly fit for a king, but it is a rather big name for such a small creature," he said, his annoyance beginning to lose its edge.

"Oh, he may still be small, but I am sure he has the potential to be a majestic elk. He is a strong willed creature, loyal and brave," Legolas said with assurance, while ruffling Aradan's fur. Tauriel rolled up the blanket and handed it to Bilbo, who had timidly shuffled closer, his eyes still avoiding the Elvenking.

Thranduil folded his hands in front of his lap. "You speak of his qualities with such certainty, yet you cannot have known him for more than mere days."

"I do not have any doubts about him being special, which is why I brought him here."

Thranduil looked intently at his son, those blue eyes so much like his own, yet with the candour of youth he himself had lost along his twisted journey through endless millennia. The sight before his eyes seemed to belong to a different life altogether.

"Aren't you a little bit too old to be bringing pets to the palace?" he said, his gaze travelling from Legolas to Tauriel, who in their childhood had more often than not been his son's accomplice in such endeavours, sneaking not only elk calves, but also rabbits, fawns and possibly half of the forest's fauna into the royal chambers if he hadn't put a stop to it. He remembered as clear as daylight the moment when he had prepared himself to take a relaxing bath after a long day of tedious meetings, only to find a beaver in the process of collecting twigs to supposedly build a dam inside the king's pool. He had been positively furious, scolding both Legolas and Tauriel for their irresponsible behaviour in such a harsh way that had them flee the royal chambers with tears in their eyes. He had to admit that he might have overreacted just a bit, but back then it had been the final straw that had led him to enforce stricter rules concerning his son's overly developed fondness for bringing his furry friends home. For some reason though he had never been able to shake off the feeling that Brethilwen had quietly undermined his authority by turning a blind eye to their activities, in fact he had been quite sure that she might have even encouraged them. Upon questioning she had of course denied all such allegations and any involvement. Furthermore she had pointed out to him that it was one of the few things that brought Legolas happiness after the loss of his mother, so Thranduil had decided to quietly tolerate his son's pastime as long as there would be no more beavers floating around in his pool.

"I did not bring him as my pet, but as a gift for you, Ada." The clear voice of Legolas snapped him out of his reverie and he raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. He had already guessed his son's intentions, but decided to play along, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm.

"For me?" he said, searching his son's eyes for what he already knew.

"Yes, Ada. You will need a new mount, now that Silvermane has been returned to Odmund. Aradan may need time to grow, but I am sure that he will be a loyal companion, just like Tauron, whom you have lost in battle."

Thranduil swallowed as he was reminded of the cruel way his elk had died at the hands of the filthy orcs and he quickly pushed those dreadful images to the back of his mind.

"I will have need of a new mount indeed, but I do not wish to rush this decision, as such an animal will have to be chosen wisely and with great care and he will have to learn his royal duties early on."

"I understand." Legolas nodded obediently. "And I do not want to impose any decision on you. I only ask that he be given a chance and that we might offer him shelter until he is strong enough to survive on his own."

"Fair enough. If this is your wish, then so be it. Still, an elk is not an animal to be spending his days in halls underground, so the stables will be a more proper place for him than the palace."

"Yes, Ada." Legolas indicated for Tauriel to help him have the cart moved towards the stables.

"But he is still so small!" Anna piped up, her hand tugging at Thranduil's sleeve, "can't we keep him with us at least until the end of winter?"

Thranduil turned to look at her, her pleading eyes making it difficult for him to maintain a serious expression. "I assure you that he will be well looked after, besides, the royal chambers are no playing ground for elk calves."

"Oh, but please, I can take care of him and I promise that he will not be a bother. My rooms are big enough!" She squeezed his arm excitedly, her other hand pressed flat against her chest.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Since when have you become an expert in raising an elk?"

"I am not, not yet at least, but I am willing to learn and I am sure your son could teach me," she said brightly and a sheepish grin spread on Legolas' face, "and I could use something to keep me busy."

With that she had struck a nerve, as charging her with Aradan's care might not only distract her from whatever worries might plague her, but could also help her to feel even more at home, something that lay in his own interest.

"Very well," he said with a small sigh, gently laying his hand atop hers, "but only until the onset of spring and if he does not learn how to behave himself, he must be moved to the stables immediately."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Thranduil!" Anna was bubbling with joy and raised herself on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

The unexpected touch of her lips brought a candid smile to his face. For once he could not care less about the breach of royal protocol and the murmurs around him told him that his people did not mind either.

"What choice do I have, with you and my son teaming up in this?" he said with only a grain of indignation in his voice, while he toyed with the notion of pulling Anna into an embrace and kissing her right here in front of everyone.

"It seems that you have been overruled, my king," she said gleefully, leaning forward to pet Aradan, who stood just a little bit taller now that he had been officially admitted to the royal palace.

"It appears that I have," he said solemnly, "but a wise king knows when to give in," and turning towards his son he added "But do tell me, for I am now curious, how did you happen to come across him?" Thranduil extended one hand towards the elk calf, allowing him to sniff at his fingers, the wet muzzle tickling his skin in a most familiar way.

Legolas seemed genuinely relieved that his father did not put forth any further objections and eagerly delved into his recollections.

"I found him lying close to an unexpected row of _niphredil_. The flowers had caught my eyes as they are very rare to be blooming so early on and then several of them so close together struck me as quite remarkable, so I went to investigate," Legolas elaborated, clearly intent on not forgetting any important detail, "and as I bent down to look at the flowers, I heard muffled sniffing and very faint bleating coming from behind a tangled web of twigs, so I treaded closer and then hidden in a shallow pit I saw this shivering bundle of brown fur, too weak even to move, white puffs of smoke curling up from his muzzle, his breath dreadfully shallow. He must have been laying there for several days already, as he appeared seriously undernourished, the mother cow nowhere to be seen. He had nearly lost his will to live, the pleading mews growing weaker until he fell completely silent. I knelt by his side and spoke to him softly, resting my hand on his head and when he leaned into my touch, I dared to pick him up, quickly wrapping my cloak around him and taking him back to where we had made our nightly camp. He has not left my side ever since."

"I think he has also grown quite fond of our food, too," Tauriel added, "which we have gladly shared with him."

Legolas rubbed along Aradan's flanks as he looked up at his father again. "I decided to bring him here as I am sure this was no mere coincidence that I found him."

"You did right in bringing him here, for without your help death would surely have been his fate, but now let us not linger any longer, so I can attend to other matters where my authority as king will not be so easily undermined."

And with those words he turned to face the other arrivals and raised his hands in a welcoming gesture. This time he was not interrupted, Aradan silently wagging his tail as he looked up to his new master, Tauriel standing behind the cart and Bilbo beside it, the crumpled blanket in his hands, obviously glad that he had effectively evaded the king's wrath. Legolas had taken up his place beside his father once more and Gandalf leaned on his staff, a merry twinkle in his eyes at the unforeseen yet satisfying turn of events.

"My dear brave warriors, your arrival has been long awaited. See that all your needs are tended to, rest and eat and find your loved ones and in three days time we shall all gather in the Great Hall for a feast to celebrate your victorious return."

Thranduil's booming voice echoed through the hallways, his words of welcome crisp and short. He was well aware that his soldiers were more likely looking forward to their well earned rest rather than a lengthy speech from their king. There would be enough time for elaborate words on the day of the feast.

* * *

The return to the royal chambers proved slightly more cumbersome than anticipated. Thranduil's people were highly interested in the strange train that moved past them, their king and his human companion side by side with Legolas and Tauriel right behind, followed by Gandalf and Bilbo beside him, who had a hard time keeping up with their faster pace. In their wake marched Thalion, tasked with carrying Aradan to Anna's rooms and Brethilwen, who did not even make an effort to hide her obvious delight. They were followed by Feren, the king's commander, stern and tightlipped as always, as well as Galion, the king's butler, the relief of being home again clearly written all over his good-natured face. When they had finally reached the hallway that led to the royal chambers, Thranduil bade everyone to a halt with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Thalion, you will resume your duty once you have safely taken Aradan into the rooms."

"Yes, my lord!" came Thalion's quick response and he looked like he wished to get rid of the elk calf, who had begun to sniff his face, as fast as possible.

"Brethilwen, you will take care of anything that might be needed as I shall most likely be kept busy until late tonight," and with a stern expression he added, "and make sure the royal chambers are kept clean and organised. As you know very well we have been through this in the past." He wasn't keen on finding elk droppings all over the place, so he shot a warning glance at everyone in hearing distance.

"I promise that everything will be to your satisfaction, my lord," Brethilwen assured him.

"Galion!" came Thranduil's commanding voice, his butler immediately standing at attention, "show Master Baggins and Mithrandir to the guest rooms and make sure that all their needs are met."

"Yes, of course, my lord." Galion bowed with an obliging smile on his face, obviously glad to be taking care once again of daily routines at the palace.

Thranduil's gaze softened when he looked at Anna beside him.

"I will come to your rooms later to see how you and little Aradan are faring," he said, reaching out for her hand and placing a fleeting kiss on her fingers.

"Of course," she said with a smile, her eyes darting from father to son, "I understand that you both have possibly much to catch up right now."

"Yes, indeed, we do," Thranduil said, glancing sidewards at Legolas, who nodded approvingly, "and I am glad to see that you will have somebody to keep you company in the meantime."

Thalion had already pulled the door open for Anna while trying to maintain a square face as the elk calf nibbled away happily at the leather straps holding in place the shoulder plates of his armour.

"A most charming company indeed," Anna said as she disappeared into her rooms, Thalion closely behind her, while Brethilwen kept pushing the elk calf's mouth away from Thalion.

"He looks hungry to me, so we better get him some food before he tears his armour apart," Brethilwen said with an amused grin, sending one of the servants away with orders to fetch a bale of hay, tree bark and some apples, just in case.

"Make sure that you don't spoil him already on his first day in the palace as it makes it difficult to teach him the necessary discipline," Thranduil called after Brethilwen.

"Of course, my lord, I will see to it. You have nothing to worry about." Brethilwen met his eyes and he could have sworn that she had given him a small wink.

"Good," he said, not quite convinced. He had the irksome feeling that he might have opened the floodgates to something that could easily spiral out of his control and he was rather averse to the prospect of chaos this might entail.

* * *

Father and son retired to the king's chambers and as soon as the doors had clicked shut behind them, Thranduil disposed of his cloak with a sweeping motion, his crown quickly joining the heavy garment on top of his dresser. He beckoned Legolas to sit down on one of the high back chairs beside the fireplace while he made his way over to the small table and proceeded to pour wine into two glasses. Legolas swiftly sat himself down, taking the offered glass of wine with a thankful nod. Thranduil took the seat opposite his son and made himself comfortable, a feeling of warmth spreading inside his chest, seeing Legolas before him and knowing that he had truly returned home. He took a languid sip of wine, the sweet Dorwinion a perfect companion for what would be the first of hopefully many conversations with his son. There were still some issues between them that needed resolving, as hundreds of years of misunderstanding could not simply be erased all at once, but Thranduil was confident that they were now in a good place to start anew.

"Tell me, my son, besides providing me with a new mount, what other tidings do you bring from Dale?"

Legolas took a sip of wine and sat back, his posture elegant like his father, but with a juvenile eagerness that reflected his will to prove himself worthy of his father's trust.

"There is much to be said about it, but of highest concern are the restoration of Dale and Lake-town. It will take some considerable amount of time to restore both cities, as the dragon as well as the war have wreaked havoc and left many people dead and even more homeless, so those of our kin who were willing to remain behind, will stay for as long as their help is needed, assuming that it is also in our interest to see those dwellings rebuilt. Since Faeldir has still not completely recovered from his wounds, his brother has also wished to stay by his side and he volunteered for the task to oversee to process of rebuilding Dale alongside Bard the Bowman. I thought that it might be a good way to keep him busy while he could still remain close to his brother, so I decided to put him in charge. And from what I have gathered, Amardir has proven to be a capable negotiator and has earned his respect among the people of Dale."

Thranduil nodded approvingly. "A wise choice, my son. Faeldir might still be on a long way to recovery, so while it is good for him to have his brother's company, there is not much that Amardir can do for him." For a moment Thranduil fell silent, the cruel fate of his young soldier suddenly brought back vividly to his mind. He only hoped that Faeldir would live to see the coming of spring. He sighed deeply, pushing the dark thoughts aside. "And what of Bard, the Dragon-slayer? He seemed to be quite determined in pursuing his goals."

Legolas had a quick answer at the ready, obviously prepared for anything his father might want to ask. "I have seen in Bard the ability not only to be a fearless fighter but also a righteous ruler. His people hold him in high esteem and I daresay than none have shed a tear over the loss of their old Master. Bard even wishes to bestow upon you a gift as token of gratefulness for the help you have offered him and his people in their darkest hour."

From the folds of his tunic Legolas pulled out a necklace of stunning emeralds, placing it carefully on the delicate wooden table beside his father. Thranduil's eyes widened in awe at the splendour of this necklace, studded with hundreds of emeralds as green as grass.

"This is the Necklace of Girion, which Dain had given to Bard as his share of dwarves' treasure and he in turn offers you as gift, hoping that you will accept it."

The candlelight enveloped the emeralds in a mysterious light, iridescent sparkles bouncing off of the perfectly polished surfaces like green flames. Thranduil ran his fingertips across the gems, their impeccable smoothness a joyful delight. He could not deny that he was most fond of such beautifully crafted and wondrous works of jewellery and this would be indeed a fabulous addition to his already vast collection. He looked up to his son, who had been studying him, waiting for his verdict.

"This is indeed an impressive necklace and with the next messenger to Dale I will express my gratitude to Bard for such a generous gift."

Legolas smiled and leaned back, visibly pleased with his father's reaction. He took another sip of wine and put the glass back thoughtfully.

"It also seems that the Dwarves under their new king Dain are once more willing to take up friendly relationships with their human neighbours," Legolas said tentatively.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes in displeasure. The words 'friendly' and 'dwarves' being used in one sentence was not something he wished to get used to and he did not make any effort to hide his obvious contempt. "The dwarves will remain on friendly terms with the Men of Dale for as long as they can derive a benefit from it and increase their wealth, hoarding gold and gems in their kingdom of stone as they have always done." Thranduil stared gloomily into the fire, the thought of dwarves chasing away the feeling of delight the necklace had brought to his mind.

"Oh, but on a more joyful side note there is much to be said about Odmund's daughter Edda as she has been found alive and unharmed!" Legolas veered towards a more innocuous topic of conversation.

"She has indeed?" Thranduil was only mildly interested as he absentmindedly swirled the contents in his glass, languidly following the motion of the burgundy liquid with his eyes. "I assume that the man must be quite pleased to have not only his horse but also his daughter back."

"He is indeed, although he probably did not expect things to turn out the way they did," Legolas said with a mischievous grin.

"In what sense?" Thranduil's curiosity was now finally stirred and he placed his glass back on the table beside him.

"Well, the thing is," Legolas began, leaning back and making sure that he had his father's full attention, "the circumstances of her disappearance have turned out quite different from what everyone had originally thought. When Odmund believed her lost in the fire, Edda had actually taken advantage of the general confusion while everyone had been fleeing the city and eloped with a young fisherman whom she had secretly been meeting for several months. Her father had disapproved of this blossoming relationship, wanting her to take on a more suitable partner, whom he had already chosen for her, but she had openly rejected. Seeing no other choice but to abandon her family, they had been planning their escape several days prior to the fire and when the dragon attacked the city, it proved to be the perfect moment for them. They had arranged to secretly meet in his small fisher-boat, so when she supposedly had gone back to find Silvermane, she snuck away and they both made it to the shore undetected, thanks to the clamour and chaos after the dragon's death. They then took shelter in the nearby woods, keeping away from the general bustle, hoping that with the passing of time her father might bring himself to accept his daughter's choice. Ultimately they had successfully avoided being found by Odmund, knowing that he would eventually have to attend to his other younger children and would not be able to keep on searching for an extended amount of time, but they could not evade being tracked down by our people. When they were found in their makeshift hideaway they were at first reluctant to come to Dale and only when Edda learned of her father's endless grief about her supposed death, could she be persuaded to follow them. Still, her condition was that they would not allow her father to separate them again, or else they would stay in hiding. And so they went back to Dale and to Edda's surprise it took little convincing for Odmund to accept his daughter's choice, especially since he saw himself faced with not only her mother taking their daughter's side, but also the young couple's steadfast declaration of their mutual love."

"Odmund accepted his daughter's choice without questioning it any further?" Thranduil shook his head in disbelief.

"Yes, he did, although it might have cost him to see past his pride, but in the end he was overjoyed to have her back alive and when he saw that she was happily in love, he did what any father with his heart in the right place would have done, he gave in and accepted her choice. Love is as love does, or so the humans say."

"This may be a nice and touching story, but love is not always as simple and straightforward as that," Thranduil said with a sigh, an age old ache tearing through his chest.

"I know that love is not always easy and the path to happiness may be a crooked one." Legolas leaned forward and Thranduil could feel his son's gaze lingering on him, the shield around his heart melting away. "But it does get easier once you accept it and don't try to push it away, doesn't it Ada?"

"You are right, son, it does indeed," Thranduil said with a warm smile, reaching for his glass again. "Let us then drink to love and its inexplicable and most wondrous ways, which only Eru in His infinite wisdom might wholly understand."

And so they did, both raising their glasses, the bell-like tinkling echoing through the king's chambers, and Thranduil silently thanked the Valar for granting him another chance. It was a rare privilege of which he hoped to be worthy.

* * *

The meeting with his son had left him both elated and emotionally stirred up, the unexpected tale of love between Edda and her fisherman showing him quite plainly how much he longed for his own heart to finally be at peace again. He loosened the upper clasps of his robe with impatient fingers as he stepped through the concealed door into Anna's rooms, looking forward to some moments of relaxation before he would have to return to his long night of royal duties. The candid scene in front of him brought a smile to his face. Aradan was dipping his muzzle into the pool, curiously observing the circular ripples he created. Anna knelt on a big velvet cushion on the floor beside him and from where he stood, Thranduil could see her eyes following the elk calf's every motion and hear her speaking to him in an animated voice.

"I see that you have made friends already," Thranduil said as strode towards them, his fingers still working through the remaining clasps.

A smile dawned on Anna's face when she looked up to him. "Yes, we have," and then she whispered to Aradan. "Look, we have a visitor. The king is gracing us with his presence."

But it seemed that the elk calf was not easily distracted from what he was doing, as he kept paying attention to the water rather than the Elvenking. Thranduil observed Aradan with amusement, allowing the brocade robe to slide backwards over his shoulders and disposing of it on a nearby chair, which left him only with his tunic and leggings. He let himself sink onto the settee in an alcove adjacent to the pool and patted the empty space beside him with his flat hand.

"Come and sit with me," he said, and Anna leapt up from her cushion on the floor and made herself comfortable on the settee, snuggling against his side and resting her head on his shoulder. He threw one arm around her and pulled her close, a feeling of peaceful contentment settling in his chest. Aradan finally abandoned the pool, sending droplets flying everywhere as he shook his head. He teetered towards them and curled up at Anna's feet, a small puddle forming under his chin.

"So, tell me about this little one. What has he been up to? Is he taking apart the royal chambers already?" He trailed his fingertips along her arm and Anna let out a small purr as he made goosebumps rise on her skin. She shivered a little and then slid even closer until their thighs touched.

"Oh, not at all, he is really sweet, except that he has been trying to eat my quill and apparently he loves to chew on parchment too. I caught him sniffing my book with a surprising amount of interest," Anna chatted away happily, her finger tracing the pattern of leaves on her dress, "oh, and you know what? He is completely in love with the pool. He keeps trying to poke his own reflection. Apparently he thinks it's another elk calf and wants to play with it, but at least he has not jumped in yet. Apparently he knows that it's not for him to swim."

"That is a relief, but animals can pick up the strangest habits indeed, so you are well advised to put him in his place or else he will act up in no time." He playfully tapped her knee with his fingers. "The first rule you need to know is that you cannot let him dominate you. You are the master and he must learn to obey your command," Thranduil elaborated while Aradan had begun to chew on the hem of Anna's dress. She pulled it up and away, giving him the sternest look she could manage.

"I can clearly see how that will be working out for me," she said with a grin, while assessing the damage done to the delicate cloth.

"You just have to practice being more authoritative," Thranduil said with enough smugness for both of them, "I can teach you."

"Oh, I have no doubt that you can be very authoritative, but I don't think that Aradan would be much impressed by that. He clearly has a mind of his own."

As if Aradan would want to prove her point, he rose to his feet, eagerly wagging his short tail and ostentatiously laying his head across Thranduil's knees.

"This, my little friend," he said coolly, pushing the elk calf's head off his knees with quiet determination, "is not going to get you anywhere. You can count yourself lucky that I have been in a most generous mood today."

Aradan angled his head to look at the king, and for a moment Thranduil meant to see his old friend Tauron staring right back at him from those big brown eyes, but he also saw unbridled joy and an eagerness to prove himself worthy as new companion. This little creature had already found a way into his heart and had apparently no intention of giving up such privileged space ever again. He poked Thranduil's fingers, gradually edging closer and when he did not meet any immediate resistance, he pressed his muzzle against the king's hand, eagerly licking his palm.

An amused chuckle escaped Anna. "So this is your idea of being authoritative?"

"Having authority also means knowing when to yield," Thranduil said imperiously and with as much dignity as possible while trying to ignore the growing wet stains on his leggings where Aradan had comfortably settled with his head square across his knees.

"Mhm," Anna nodded, biting back a grin, "I've heard you saying something similar already once today."

"You don't believe me?" he said, stroking Aradan between the ears and narrowing his eyes as he looked at her.

"Of course I believe you," she said, running her hand through the elk's flank. The animal had now closed its eyes in obvious delight at receiving caresses from both of them. "It's just that I am not used to seeing you like this."

"Apparently there are many sides of me that you still need to discover for yourself." He found her hand and laced his fingers through hers.

"I am looking forward to that," she said, looking up at him through thick lashes, her hair falling in silky waves around her shoulders. He tucked a loose strand behind her ear, his fingers gently grazing over her cheek. She still wore her elegant dress and he took delight in the beautiful sight before his eyes, the white pearls accenting her slender neck, her rosy lips so inviting. He sensed her breath quickening as he leaned towards her, the warmth of her body kindling a fire within him. He laid one hand on the small of her back to tug her closer, the elk calf for a moment forgotten, and looking into her eyes he saw his own longing reflected in them.

"I enjoyed very much having you by my side today," he said. His fingertips danced along the neckline of her dress, the intricate border of white lace contrasting pleasantly with the sprinkles of golden freckles that faintly dappled her shoulders and chest. He found himself holding his breath at such a tempting sight.

"Thranduil," she whispered, running a daring finger down the opening of his tunic. A myriad of sparks seemed to be shot right through his veins.

"Yes?" He exhaled slowly, resting his forehead against hers.

She pursed her lips. "Kiss me," she said.

He gave her a slow smile, savouring the thrilling moment of anticipation before their lips touched, the scent of honey and roses enveloping him.

"Your wish is my command," he said and then he leaned down and kissed her, the warmth and softness of her mouth tumbling him into a realm of bliss. Anna slung her arms around his neck and the way she surrendered to his touch filled him with a fierce possessiveness. His hands travelled down her back and over her waist, gripping the curve of her hips. He wanted her, wanted to make her his, to kiss her until he knew every corner of her body. A searing heat burned through him and he pressed her even closer until he could feel her heartbeat racing against his chest. More, he needed more. Her fingers clenched his hair when he deepened the kiss, her mouth giving in to his demand with a willingness that sent his own pulse into a frenzied staccato. He was beginning to lose himself to the fire that consumed him, his resolution to stay gentle crumbling rapidly. Their lips clung to each other in a sensual dance, and whatever rhythm he set, she eagerly followed his beat. His hunger for her pushed itself vigorously to the surface, drowning out the voice of reason in his head. He buried one hand in her hair to tilt her head back, his mouth exploring hers with a feverish heat that set him on edge. Anna melted like wax in his hands and she did not resist when he pushed her further back into the settee rather forcefully. Nothing would stop him now from going as far as his desire drove him. His fingers brushed over the laces on the back of her dress and began skilfully pulling them apart, while his other hand searched to untie her belt, and only when he felt something nibbling at his hand, did he come to his senses. He abruptly stopped his motions, pulling away from her mouth and willing his heart to slow down its frantic beat. For a moment he froze, his hands still clutching the strings of her bodice and his gaze went over her exposed shoulder to Aradan, their unwitting chaperon, who stared at both of them with utmost curiosity. A wave of shame washed over him. He had nearly lost control and he could not let that happen again.

"Don't stop now!" Anna protested with her eyes still closed, her dress slightly askew and her lips searching for what they had lost.

"Forgive me," he breathed heavily, struggling to find his voice as he tried to cool his blood, "I did not mean to push that far."

She opened her eyes and her heart lay like a precious gem right before him. He needed only to reach out and take it. "But I want to," she whispered, still breathless from their kisses, her fingers fumbling with the drawstring of his tunic. She looked so radiant, her skin glowing in the flickering candlelight and he wanted nothing more than to go on, but she was not his to claim, not until she could truly make that choice for herself.

"You need to know what's in your heart before you can give it to me," he said softly, when he had finally pieced together the remnants of his brittle composure, catching her hand before it could wander any further.

She retreated her hand, letting it sink into her lap and when she looked at him, she blinked away a tear.

"I know that we both want more," he said, taking her face in his hands and regarding her solemnly, "but being with you is something very special for me and I want to be able to call you by your name when we are together." His thumb traced the outline of her upper lip, the evidence of their passion visible on her reddened skin, and then his voice suddenly turned serious. "Tomorrow I will speak with Mithrandir to hear his advice, so I can bring your memory back as soon as possible. With every passing day the thought of having to let you go again becomes more unbearable."

"I don't want to worry about tomorrow." Anna heaved a sigh and sank against his chest. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her forehead damp with a sheen layer of sweat. He held her close, gently stroking her hair, and a part of him wished that tomorrow would never come.

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _Niphredil_ \- a winter flower, meaning 'little pallor' or 'snowdrop'

* * *

 **Author's Notes: A quick explanation concerning the Necklace of Girion. This necklace is not mentioned in the movies, but it can be found in the book, where Bard gives it to Thranduil in person as gift in exchange for the aid the Elvenking had provided. I thought that it would be a nice token to keep and have Legolas take it back to his father.**

 **I hope you have all enjoyed this latest chapter with our new addition to the palace, Aradan the chaperon XD.**

 **One more thing: as I have announced already in the past, the updates will be slower from now on, as I am still working on the next chapters and it usually takes me 3-4 weeks to have one ready. I have a job, a family and a household to take care of and not much spare time to write. Also I am concentrating on my original fantasy story (The Enchanted Spring), so you may have to be patient, while I work on both stories. If you enjoy my writing and are interested in my original work, you can find it on Wattpad (username: floranocturna) or FictionPress (username: TheRealFloranocturna). By the way: it features elves and forests, and magic and a lot of dark, evil and twisted things!**

 **Thank you for understanding!**

 **Reviews, favs/follows are very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter ^^!**


	34. Teatime with Gandalf

**Another round of thank you to those lovely readers who have reviewed the previous chapter: De Lacus, BlueLunarRose, Jokerjill28, Guest, thrndlwood, aphhire-deity, Averlovie and d'elfe! And thank you also to all those who have favourited and/or followed this tale of mine.**

 **I appreciate all your support!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter, which was finished faster than what I've expected it to be :). I hope you're ready for another round of exciting revelations!**

* * *

 _Chapter 33 - Teatime with Gandalf_

Tomorrow did come of course and when Anna awoke, still drowsy from her sleep, something in her bed was different. She wasn't alone. Oh, but it couldn't be, could it? He wouldn't just have left his kingly bed to sneak under her sheets now, would he? But who knew. Last night's passionate encounter had revealed to her the extent of Thranduil's desire, a crack in his ever so perfect composure pushing open the door towards many pleasurable delights. He had set her body on fire and then had left her burning for more, more of his delicious mouth and those wickedly skilful fingers. There couldn't have been any doubt about him wanting her, as she had felt the evidence of it, even through the layers of their clothes. His honour had, of course, overtaken whatever need had driven him, but what she had glimpsed beneath, was both dangerous and exhilarating and she could not get enough of that feeling, enough of him.

She shifted around under her snuggly covers, her eyes still closed and a sheepish smile dawning on her face. When she extended her arm, there was a warm shape beside her, a small and hairy shape. She squinted through one eye and a silent snort escaped her at the comical sight. It was of course not the Elvenking who had come to share her bed, but the ever so curious elk calf, who must have clambered into bed without her noticing it. She glanced at Aradan, snoring peacefully beside her and while her fingers combed lazily through the coarse coat of brown fur, her thoughts trailed to what this day would possibly bring: Thranduil's meeting with the wizard and with it hopefully the restoration of her memory. She turned sideways, propping herself up on one elbow to scratch Aradan behind one ear with her other hand, as she surveyed her room. _Her_ room as she had come to call it, but surely it did not belong to her, just as much as she did not really belong here.

An ache tore through her chest at the thought of what the revelation of her past might entail. What if her only choice was to return to wherever she had come from? Would she even have the strength to turn away from the Elvenking? What if she broke not only his heart, but also sent him to his doom, the mysterious dragon fire slowly consuming him? Wasn't it her duty to help him, if there was anything at all that she could do for him? Not just her duty, but also what her heart commanded her to do. She turned around, laying on her back again, and stared at the ceiling, the thoughts swirling like murky waters in her head. Brethilwen had told her that she had powers that might be crucial to Thranduil's healing, but she had no idea what kind of power the healer had been referring to. For once Anna wished that elves would not be so fond of their cryptic ways of speaking. Maybe Gandalf finally would be able to help her clear this mess she had found herself in.

In the meantime Aradan had awoken and was now licking her hand, the tickling sensation bringing a smile to Anna's face.

"I assume you had a good night's sleep?" she said and when Aradan intensified his licking she finally pulled her hand away, wiping it on her covers, "but we might need to have these sheets changed." She frowned at the incredible amount of brown hair the elk calf had shed in a mere few hours.

Following a soft knock on the door, Brethilwen swept into the room on a wave of dutiful business, balancing a tray of delicious food in her hands, and when she spotted Aradan curled up on the bed she mirrored Anna's grin.

"I am glad to see that little Aradan is making himself very much at home already. Still I would advise you to not let Thranduil see this. He doesn't really approve of sharing a bed with animals."

Anna lazily stretched her arms and legs and threw Brethilwen a mischievous glance. "Well, this is my bed and not his and he does not need to know about it, right?" Anna cocked an eyebrow at Brethilwen.

"My mouth is sealed," Brethilwen lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, while she began to arrange the food on the small table along the wall opposite Anna's bed.

"The king, is he—?" Anna's question hung unfinished in the air, but Brethilwen had an answer ready before Anna could think of a way to formulate her question without appearing too nosy.

"Yes, the king has been up since the break of dawn, as a matter of fact I doubt that he has even gone to bed at all. The return of an army involves a myriad of obligations. He might be busy for most of the day, his duties leading him from checking with the healers in the infirmary to the armoury, possibly even the stables, to a meeting with his commander, receiving reports on various matters, not to forget that he also plans on making time to speak with Tauriel and Mithrandir."

Anna drew her mouth into a thin line, trying to hide her disappointment. She of course knew that it was silly and very selfish of her to be wishing for his company, but she couldn't help it, every fibre of her body longed for him. Even a small kiss would have made her content already. She swung her legs around to sit on the bedside. Something warm and wet suddenly licked at her cheek and she didn't have to look to know. Aradan's insistence at remaining close to her was endearing.

"But at least you won't be all alone." Brethilwen smiled at her as she pointed at the various plates and goblets which she had laid out. "And I am not talking about Aradan."

Anna rose from her bed, reached for her robe, and tied her belt with a quick knot. "But did you not say that Thranduil was already busy? Why are you laying out for two people? I am not expecting any visitor, am I?" She ruffled her hair while trying to stifle a yawn.

"Actually you are. Mithrandir has asked to speak to you as soon as you would be awake and Thranduil has granted him the permission to do so."

"What?" Anna blinked and then stared wide-eyed at Brethilwen. "The wizard is coming here? To my chambers? To have breakfast with me?" Her eyes darted around the room in rising panic for either a quick place to hide or at least something more decent to wear. "But—, my hair." She pulled at the tangled strands to prove her point. "And my robe! I have elk hair all over me!" She frantically shuffled through her belongings on the nightstand, nearly sending a stack of books tumbling to the floor, until she finally spotted her brush buried under a discarded tunic and began attacking her hair with a viciousness that tore at her scalp.

"Like this you're either going to ruin your hair or the brush," Brethilwen noted rather dryly, wresting the brush from her hands, "or more likely both."

She made Anna sit down on the chair in front of her nightstand, her hands resolutely working through Anna's hair with slow and deliberate strokes. "Just calm down. There is no need to panic and your robe is just fine. I can assure you that your clothes will be the least of Mithrandir's concerns." In an instant she had combed through all the tangles, and after she had placed the brush back on the table, she tied the honey coloured strands into a loose braid. Anna couldn't help but marvel at Brethilwen's ability of turning the mop on her head into a decent looking hairstyle in just a few moments. No doubt she was truly blessed with magical hands.

When Brethilwen was sufficiently satisfied with her work, she laid her hands on Anna's shoulders, squeezing them gently. "After all, he is only here to help, isn't he?"

"What if he asks me strange questions?" The queasiness in her stomach was still quite prominent.

"Then you answer them truthfully," was Brethilwen's plain retort. "You have accompanied the king to meet his son and his armies at the gate with such graceful ease. You will handle a short conversation with an old wizard just fine."

Anna chewed on the inside of her cheek, as those moments at the gate came back once again to her mind. "To be honest, I was constantly terrified of making a mistake and if Aradan hadn't lightened up the mood, I would have probably made a complete fool out of myself."

Brethilwen's mouth turned into a half-smile. "Oh I don't think so. You did very nicely and it is not your fault that this hobbit uses more words than what are good for him. Nor can you be blamed for Thranduil being immune to the charm of Master Baggins."

"For a moment I feared that he might just lock Bilbo up in the dungeons. I could feel him going as cold as ice beside me." A shiver slithered down Anna's spine.

In the meantime Aradan had jumped off the bed and was now stalking towards the table, sniffing at the food with growing interest.

"Are you hungry for breakfast?" Anna rose from her chair to follow him to the table. The food looked indeed delicious. There were those divine bread-rolls, fresh out of the oven and still warm, thick slices of ham and cheese, bowls filled with berries as well as grapes and apples. Carafes with water and a rounded teapot with what contained undoubtedly her favourite tea. It was steaming hot, tendrils of white smoke wafting up into the air. Her fingers danced atop the bowl of fruits and then she fished out an apple, holding it out to Aradan, who took it deftly between his teeth, then curled up under the table to happily crunch away on the fresh fruit.

"I very much doubt that Thranduil would have thrown the poor hobbit into the dungeon." Brethilwen had now also walked over to the table and was brushing off some elk hair from Anna's robe. "You know that he has a temper. But you also know that he only wishes to shield you from harm. Wandering off on your own can be very risky, especially for someone who does not know the roads and is not aware of the dangers lurking along the way. I am sure Thranduil does not mean to keep you locked up and should you ever wish to travel, he will gladly see to it that you both might journey safely. But for now it is wiser that you remain here, both for your own protection as well as for Thranduil's sake." Brethilwen gave the table another assessing glance and then her grey eyes were on Anna. "He needs you, you know, more than what you think. I know that he does not want you to worry about his condition, because he doesn't want you to feel obliged to stay out of pity for him." She sighed, her fingers gliding absentmindedly over the intricate carvings on the table. "When you get your memory back, please make sure that you do not take any rash decisions. Give yourself time to adjust to your old memories, but don't allow them to swallow you whole and to bury your feelings for Thranduil."

"I will make sure to remember." Anna nodded a bit stiffly, her worries making an unbidden return, but first and foremost she needed to get through the meeting with this fabled wizard in the most dignified way possible.

"How long do I have until Gandalf gets here?"

"Oh, he has been waiting outside the door ever since he obtained Thranduil's permission to come and visit you early this morning." Brethilwen lifted the lid of the tea-pot to peek inside, closing it again with a satisfied nod.

"So he has been waiting all this time in front of my room?" Anna began to feel sorry for the old man, doomed to idle waiting until she would finally awake.

Brethilwen shrugged and picked up the empty tray. "He told me that he did not mind the wait, assuring me that time was the only thing he had indeed plenty." She made to leave the room, but stopped on her way out, placing the tray on a nearby chair. "Oh, but there is one more thing before I leave you to your teatime with the wizard."

From her satchel she pulled out a small phial filled with a crystal clear liquid and placed it on Anna's bedside table. Upon Anna's questioning look she said: "I know that your sting has healed well and it is not bothering you anymore, but just in case it starts acting up again, which I pray to the Valar that it will not, this little something will come in handy to ease whatever symptoms might show. It is a new mixture I have been working on based on the spider venom. There were a few ingredients that had been missing and which I have now finally received from Dale. It is very potent and a few drops should do."

The colour suddenly drained from Anna's face and her eyes went from Brethilwen to the phial, so small and inconspicuous, yet apparently filled with a powerful draught. Her voice was barely a whisper. "But, do you think that the pain will come back again?"

Brethilwen closed her satchel, slung it over her shoulder and picked up the tray again. "I do not think so, but I'd rather not take any risks and I am sure that it lies in the king's best interest too. Thranduil cares a great deal for you and it is my duty as your healer to make sure that I do not overlook anything. So, just be a good girl and keep this with you at all times, will you?"

"Of course." Anna nodded obediently. She took it, the glass smooth and cold against her fingers. "Better safe than sorry," she said more to herself than Brethilwen, who was already at the door, exchanging some brief words with the wizard and then bidding him farewell with a chuckle and a blush on her cheeks.

Whatever that was about, Anna would not get a chance to ask Brethilwen until later, because Gandalf had already appeared at the doorframe and was now beaming at her.

* * *

"Good morning." This was all Anna could manage and for a moment Gandalf seemed to ponder his answer, but then thought better of it and only said with a slight inclination of his head:

"Good morning, my dear. Thank you so much for giving me a moment of your time. I promise you that I will make good use of it and keep it short."

Without his cloak, hat and staff, like she had seen him yesterday, he appeared just like a common old man, clad in a simple robe of coarse grey, a brown belt loosely slung around his middle. Of course she wasn't naive enough to assume that his appearance had anything to do with the powers he might hold, so she reminded herself to be on her guard, just in case.

How did one open a conversation with a famous wizard? Was she supposed to ask him to join her for breakfast or was this considered impolite? Did wizards even eat like normal people? He seemed to have read her thoughts, as he threw the table laden with food a curious glance and then gave her a disarming smile.

"Oh, this does look rather delicious. The elves do have good taste in food." He studied the plates and goblets. "And I see that there is even tea too! There is nothing better than to greet the morning with a cup of hot tea, wouldn't you agree?"

Anna smiled widely, someone who enjoyed tea as much as she did, couldn't be all that bad. "Yes, I do agree. Brethilwen is an expert in brewing the best tea and whatever honey she uses, is the sweetest I have ever tasted. Would you care to join me for a cup or maybe two?"

She grabbed the backrest of her chair to pull it out and then gestured to the other chair facing her, so Gandalf might make himself comfortable. Maybe this could even turn into an enjoyable conversation.

"Thank you very much," Gandalf said, unhooking his thumbs from inside his belt. "How could I refuse such a tempting offer?"

He slid into the seat opposite her and began serving himself food, piling up bread, ham and cheese on his plate. Anna poured them both a cup of tea, adding a spoonful of honey, and then she served herself one bread-roll and some berries. She was more nervous than hungry. For a while they sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence, each paying attention to their food, until finally Gandalf addressed her.

"You must forgive an old man his curiosity, but I must be very sure about the condition of your memory. You truly do not remember anything from before the Elvenking found you under that tree?"

"No, I do not, although I do remember that at the very beginning I still had some vague images of my former life, but everything vanished when, you know, when he gave me that wine."

Gandalf nodded solemnly and for a moment Anna stared at his wrinkled hands beside his plate.

"But how do you know that he found me under the tree? I thought you had not yet spoken to Thranduil?" She broke her bread-roll in half to dig out the fluffy inside, which was her favourite part, especially when the bread was still hot and fresh.

"Ah, for some things I do not need to ask him or anyone for that matter," Gandalf said between taking sizeable bites of bread laden with ham. "There is but one portal tree in all of Mirkwood and I have been around for a good while to know about its existence."

He suddenly leaned closer, the lengths of his beard sweeping the breadcrumbs off his plate like a broom.

"Look at me," he said, his voice solemn as he fixed Anna with his eyes. He seemed to grow taller, tendrils of darkness coiling around him.

"I am looking at you," she said, dropping her bread on the plate and shifting in her seat. She was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable.

He pushed his teacup out of the way with his fingers. "I mean, really look at me. I need to be sure about something."

Anna swallowed her answer and ignoring the ominous shadows, she focused on his sky blue eyes that assessed her with a mixture of sharpness and wisdom. Suddenly her breath caught in her throat. Her mind whirled with clouds that were struggling to lift against their invisible ties. The shattered pieces of her memories, a mirror of broken reflections, glittered before her eyes.

"See, there it is!" he exclaimed with satisfaction, almost making her jump back in her seat.

"Yes," she whispered, the vivid mosaic of her past taunting her with its panoply of colours. But it still remained out of reach, a solid wall that she could not break through, at least not on her own.

"Everything is still there, it is only the access that has been shut." He tapped at his forehead with his finger.

"So, this is a good thing, you're saying, isn't it? It means you can bring back my memory!" A slight tremble was in her voice, when she had suddenly been so close yet still so far from herself.

"Yes, it will be possible." He nodded, the darkness around him receding as he returned his attention to the half eaten bread on his plate.

"But Thranduil said something about a risk involved, that I could lose my new memories when regaining my old ones." The thought of severing the tender bonds between her and Thranduil was closing in like an iron vice around her chest.

"Ah, yes, the risk," he said gravely, nodding several times, as he casually allowed more crumbs to drop from his fingers onto his plate. "There is one question I must ask you and you must promise me to answer it truthfully. This might be crucial for the outcome of the spell."

"Yes, of course," Anna was quick to respond, sitting up straight in her seat, her fingers coiling around the belt of her robe. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this work."

"Good." Gandalf dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and then laid it aside. She could feel his eyes again boring into hers. "I need to know one thing: do you love Thranduil?"

"What? Why—, why does this have anything to do with regaining my memory?" She felt heat rise to her cheeks. This wasn't a question she had been prepared to hear. She barely dared answer it to herself, let alone say it out loud in front of a strange wizard she had just met.

Gandalf tilted his head sideways, raising his eyebrows encouragingly. "A yes or a no would suffice."

She did know the answer to that question, had known it for a long time, but she had thought herself a fool for allowing her heart to fall for an immortal Elvenking. But no matter how hopeless or foolish it might seem, her heart had burned for him since the moment his gaze of ice had kindled a flame inside her.

She took a deep breath, her hands clinging to her robe, the one that still bore the remnants of Thranduil's scent, and willed her voice to be clear. "Yes, I do love him, more than anything, more than my own life."

Now that she had said it out loud for the first time, she felt strangely relieved, even glad, as if a burden had been lifted from her.

"I thought so," was all Gandalf said, reaching out for his cup of tea to drain it in one swig. "I don't believe in letting anything go to waste, especially not such a delightful tea," he said, when he had placed his empty cup back on the table.

"That is very wise of you," Anna stated, watching him and wondering how to return to a normal conversation that didn't involve laying bare her innermost feelings. To her relief he apparently did not plan on developing his question any further. As a matter of fact, he pushed his empty plate back, dropping the napkin on top, and rose quite briskly from his seat.

"But now I should be going, as I know that Thranduil does not approve to be kept waiting. Well, that and smoking pipe." Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows, a smile shining through his tangled beard. "I think it reminds him too much of the dwarves." He chuckled while he adjusted his belt.

Anna could not help but grin. "You are probably right. He isn't very fond of dwarves, that much is for sure."

She followed suit, rising from her seat, and then held out her hand to him to bid him farewell. He took it, his weathered hand surprisingly warm and strong around her own.

"It was very nice meeting you," he said, shaking her hand.

"Yes, it was indeed," she said, smiling, "and I hope this will not be the last time that we meet."

"It won't be, of that I am very sure." He still did not let go of her hand, as if he were pondering something. "As this was neither the last time nor the first time that we have met."

Her eyes went wide and she felt her insides freeze. "What do you mean, not the first time?"

"Just exactly that. We have met once before and I remember one thing about you."

"And what is that?" She could feel her palms beginning to sweat in his firm grip.

"Your name." He squeezed her hand again and then suddenly let go of it. "It was very nice meeting you again, Anna."

And while she still stared at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, Aradan reappeared from his hideout under the table to brush up against her legs, and by the time she looked up again, the door had already closed behind Gandalf.

* * *

At first Thranduil had been slightly irritated by the fact that Mithrandir had expressed the wish to meet with Anna beforehand, but after a moment of consideration he had agreed. This was about her after all, and whatever the wizard could learn from her, would help in the recovery of Anna's memory. After last night all he could think of was how much he wanted her and how terrified he was of losing her. Her body had felt so incredibly delicious in his arms and if it hadn't been for Aradan interrupting them, he would have taken her right there on that settee. Her warmth, her scent, it all had nearly shattered him and the desire building in his loins had burned through him like a wildfire. Maybe he had been a fool for having allowed his honour to once again claim victory over his need. What if this had been his only chance at feeling her come undone beneath him? What if after the recovery of her memory she would reject him, even hate him? It would break his heart if she left, but he would not hold her back, would not keep her here against her will. He would allow her to return to her old life, if that was what she wanted, and accept his fate, allow the crack in his soul to deepen until there was nothing left of him to heal ever again. Brethilwen had warned him of what would become of him, if he could not find the cure for his broken self, but he had pushed her words of wisdom aside, kept on going, cultivating the ice around his heart until it had become a nearly impenetrable shield. And now it might well be too late. He had been so close and found himself now suddenly further from his redemption than ever before.

A determined knock at the door tore him from his brooding thoughts. He rubbed his temples, trying to clear his mind and stir his thoughts towards the conversation that lay ahead.

"Come in!" he called and when he looked up, there was Gandalf standing on the threshold.

He was a strange sight without neither his usual voluminous travel cloak, his pointy hat nor his staff, appearing just like a plain old man, his frail and ancient body concealing the immense power that slumbered inside his immortal soul.

The wizard cleared his throat, politely waiting to be addressed. Thranduil straightened himself in his seat and signalled for him to come closer with a wave of his hand.

"Mithrandir! I am glad to see that you have found some time in your busy schedule to grace me with your presence." He didn't easily admit to the fact that he needed the wizard's help, so he decided to wear the mask of arrogant self-assurance just a little bit longer. It was the only way he knew how to shield himself from the overwhelming feeling of being powerless.

"I hope you have enjoyed your breakfast with my guest," he added, a little less hostile.

"Oh, yes indeed I have. She is such a charming young lady. And I must say your tea is excellent and it possibly even rivals the quality of your Dorwinion."

"I am glad that you find the quality of my kitchens to your liking, but I have to admit that I did not know that you favoured tea over wine. If I am not mistaken, this is a relatively new habit?"

Gandalf wagged his head. "Well, that comes with travelling across time and space, one picks up habits here and there."

"I see," Thranduil said slightly amused. "Why don't you have a seat, so we can get to the point of your visit." He pointed at the armchair across his own with an elegant flick of his hand.

"Ah, yes, of course, there is much that needs to be discussed." Gandalf strode to his appointed seat with a surprising amount of agility, sinking into the soft cushion with an extended sigh. Thranduil watched him with a mixture of amusement and apprehension and when the wizard was finally seated, Thranduil folded his hands in his lap and took a deep breath.

"As I am sure you are well aware of the reason for our meeting, and assuming that you have gathered whatever it is you have wanted to ask her, I think it is best that I lay out to you what it is that I seek your advice for."

"Of course. Giving advice is what I do best," Gandalf said with a considerable amount of smugness that nearly rivalled Thranduil's. The wizard leaned back in his seat, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture, before folding them casually in his lap, while Thranduil felt himself tightening up at what lay ahead of him.

"Is there any way I can assure that she will be able to recover her memory without her losing the new ones she has? As you have surely noticed, I have grown very fond of her and would do anything to spare her any further pain. She has been very assertive that she wishes me to remove the spell I have put her under, but I daresay that she is also terrified of being left with none of her new memories. I know she does not share any of those concerns, at least not with me, but I am not blind, I can see the worry in her eyes."

Gandalf only nodded and then said: "Yes, yes. I have given some thought to this already and I am quite confident that we will be able to navigate these treacherous waters with success."

"I am glad to hear that." The tension in Thranduil's shoulders lessened considerably, but then he went on. "There is still something else that I wish to consult with you. When I healed her from the spider's sting and then again when I had to pull her out of the fever that had befallen her, I have felt a connection between us, faint and not more than a delicate thread, but it was there. I was surprised at first, because I have made sure that it was only a healer's bond, but nevertheless her soul seemed to reach out to mine in a way that made me pull back suddenly. I thought that I had unwillingly pushed too far, because how else could that have happened, unless there is something that links our souls, something that eludes my grasp."

Gandalf nodded gravely. "You might very well be on to something, Thranduil. As you know, I have travelled beyond this world and I do not need portals to do so. Ever since the day the dragon fire nearly consumed you, I have been searching not only for an explanation of what has created that rift in your soul, but also for a way to heal it."

For a moment Thranduil only stared at the wizard and the way his wrinkled hands lay folded in his lap.

"Brethilwen is an amazingly capable healer," Gandalf went on, "and she has been so kind as to lay out everything related to those early days, when she had been called here to help you recover and now that you have revealed to me the connection you have felt between this mortal woman and yourself, it has confirmed my theories."

Thranduil swallowed, preparing himself for whatever bad news might be coming from the wizard's mouth. "And what would those be?"

"Apparently the day when the dragon nearly burned you, the dragon's fire wasn't just common fire, but it was cursed."

Thranduil felt his mouth going dry. "So you are saying that the dragon cursed me?" His fingers curled around the armrest. The room around him was beginning to spin.

"In a way, yes, but I am afraid that it is a little bit more complex than that. The fire burned through your soul, burnt it nearly whole, but it had not counted with your innate strength. It thought to crush you, to diminish you, wipe you out from the face of Arda. The dragon's intention was not just to destroy your body, which the Valar could have restored, but also to tear your soul to shreds, so nothing at all would remain of you. When it felt that it could not defeat you completely, it fractured your soul, crushed it and rattled against it until a piece of it tore off. A small piece only, but a vital one nevertheless, as your soul is not made to exist incomplete. You can still live on, even recover from your physical wounds, but your soul will always be missing that one piece that broke off."

"What are you saying? What does this mean? A piece of my soul broke off, but where did it go and where is it now?"

"Haven't you guessed the answer to that already?"

Thranduil's face turned pale as the realisation hit him. "She—, she has the piece of my soul?"

Gandalf nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile. "Indeed, she has it, which is why you have felt that connection with her through the healing bond. What you have felt is the missing piece of your own soul, calling to you, finding you again through space and time."

"But how is all this possible?" Thranduil grabbed the armrests tighter until his knuckles turned white. "I have never heard of anything like this happening before!"

"There are many things possible, even things that seem so strange that one can barely believe any of it. And just because something has never happened before, does not mean that it cannot happen at all. This piece of your soul might have been wandering around the void for a very long time until it found someone to latch onto, someone it thought might be able to return it to you. Someone that would be willing to give up their own life to save someone else's."

The blood rushed through Thranduil's head like a roaring river and for a moment he thought that he might need to lie down, but he kept himself upright.

"Does she know about it?"

"No, she doesn't. To the best of my knowledge she is not aware of it."

"But how do you know that it is her? How can you be so sure about it?"

"You keep forgetting that I am a wizard. I know things," Gandalf said dryly and before Thranduil could beat him to it with a smart response he continued, "but to answer your questions: For one, she has passed through the portal, which is by itself remarkable and only possible in very rare cases and second and most important of all, I myself found her in her own world and I might have just inadvertently pushed her into a little unexpected adventure that turned out apparently quite different from what she might have thought it to be."

Slowly Thranduil began piecing everything together and then it dawned on him. "So you know her! You know who she is and what is her name and everything about her!"

He shot up from his seat, his robe a whirl of silver around him, and then he stood behind the chair, his hands gripping the backrest as if he wished to crush it with his bare hands. "Why haven't you told me any of this before? This could have spared her and me a lot of trouble!" His eyes were as cold as a lake in winter, rage bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

Gandalf remained unimpressed by Thranduil's rising anger. "Well, first of all you did everything to keep her existence hidden from me and then you also never asked me about her, so I concluded that you needed time to figure everything out on your own. Of course the fact that you gave her the enchanted wine has complicated matters considerably—,"

"I know that this was a mistake, and believe me, Brethilwen has made a point of reminding me of my foolishness on a regular basis," Thranduil interrupted him quite gruffly, his jaw clenched tight.

Gandalf kept his voice calm. "Before you jump to any rash conclusions, let me assure you that I do not know nearly as much about her as you might assume. Our paths have crossed only once in her world and it was a very brief encounter. Her tale is not mine to tell. I will assist you with all that is in my power to help regain her memory, but I will not be the one to reveal to you what only she herself must tell you." He paused and it seemed to Thranduil that he was pondering his next words. "But I do know one thing about her." Gandalf twiddled his thumbs, and Thranduil could have sworn the wizard was savouring this moment more than what he should.

"And what would that be?" Thranduil struggled to keep the eagerness from his voice.

"Her name," Gandalf said. Two words only, but those words seemed to contain the world to him.

"You do?" Thranduil's heart was close to bursting in his chest.

"Yes." Gandalf smiled, apparently quite pleased with himself.

"Are you planning on telling me her name or will you keep this secret to yourself like so many other things that you have apparently hidden from me for too long?" He was beginning to grow impatient. It was always the same with this wizard, meddlesome and secretive, a hidden agenda concealed somewhere behind those overly bushy eyebrows.

Gandalf studied him for another moment and then suddenly, without a warning, Thranduil could feel those keen eyes breaking through the tattered remains of his composure, the expanse of his fractured soul now laid bare before the wizard's gaze. A barren wasteland, beyond a chance for healing, or so he had thought. Thranduil did not resist, did not try to push him out, he was too tired and exhausted to keep his guard up at all times. He was not ashamed any more of admitting how broken he really was. Let him see and make of it what he would.

Gandalf's eyes filled with empathy and there was something else in them that Thranduil could not quite place, but then the wizard cleared his throat and said quietly: "Anna, that is her name."

"Anna," Thranduil breathed out the word like a prayer, repeating it to himself with reverence. "Anna." He had to keep his lips from trembling.

Gandalf had risen from his chair, and was now rubbing his hands together, a twinkle in his sky blue eyes. "So, should we get to work on that spell?"

Thranduil nodded his agreement, letting go of the chair, his flawless facade quickly shifting back in place. "Yes, we must not delay any longer," he said, ushering Gandalf to follow him into his study. "Let us bring Anna's memory back." He smiled a little at the sound of her name coming from his mouth.

To be continued…

* * *

 **Author's Notes: So, this chapter has brought some more interesting revelations and alongside them, more questions! Gandalf definitely comes in handy when magic is involved, doesn't he? I hope you have enjoyed the fact that Anna and Thranduil have shared this chapter with both of their POVs, even though they don't appear together. And Aradan ist quite the sweet companion for Anna, don't you think so?**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated! Thank you so much :D**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter^^!**


	35. Cave of Secrets

**Thank you so much to all my faithful readers who have reviewed the previous chapter: Raider-K, glassary, dreamgoneby, sapphire-deity, DeLacus, d'elfe, thrndlwood and Stardust043! I'm so glad you are all enjoying it!**

 **And a BIG thank you also to all those who have favourited/followed this story!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter it is! Are you prepared to face some dark secrets and possibly a little bit of drama? Yes? Then come along!**

* * *

Chapter 34 - Cave of Secrets

 _"_ _Some truths, over time, can learn to play nice_

 _Some truths are sharper than knives."_

(Sleeping At Last: South)

Anna.

One word, a single word had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions inside her. She did have a name after all, wasn't a no-one, and the hazy fragments of her past lay finally within her reach. For a moment she didn't quite know what to do with all the excitement bubbling inside her, so she stared at the closed door through which Gandalf had disappeared, pondering if she should go after him to ask him all he seemed to know and still hide about her. She was quite sure that her name was not the only thing, but then she decided against it, assuming that he would now want to speak to Thranduil and she did not want to interfere in what would hopefully lead to the lifting of her spell. Instead she sprinted towards her desk, making Aradan jump in surprise, sat down and pulled the blue book, Thranduil's gift, towards her. The elk calf staggered backwards, but caught himself to quickly teeter behind her. Anna opened the book on an empty page, dipped the quill into the ink-pot and with a pounding heart she began scribbling down her name over and over again, not once nor twice, but dozens of times until the entire page was crowded from top to bottom with narrow letters, huddled closely in each other's company. Her quill flew over the parchment like a nimble bird. It was as if she couldn't stop writing, as if she were afraid that at any moment she would forget it again and she had to make sure that it would be written down for her to remember. When she was finally done, she dropped the quill, wiping her ink stained fingers on a handkerchief she always kept in reach on her desk. Much to Thranduil's amusement she still had not yet managed to keep her fingers clean when writing, and while she did enjoy his teasing, it irked her that something so simple should prove to be so difficult to accomplish. She threw the handkerchief back on the table, her fingertips now sporting only a slightly greyish hue. It was good enough for now. She would scrub them later, or maybe she would ask Thranduil to do that for her. He had the gift of transforming even such an innocent thing as washing her hands into a sensual act that set her every nerve on fire. With a satisfied smile she admired her work and then held the book up to show it to Aradan, who was dozing beside her on the floor and was now curiously raising his head.

"This is me," she said, waving her finger excitedly at the page crammed with her name, "Anna, that's my name."

Aradan angled his head with mild interest. Obviously to him it did not make any difference if she had a name or not. For him, her presence was the only thing that mattered, name or no name, memory or none.

"Aradan." With a flourish gesture of her hand she pointed first at him and then at herself. "Anna."

The elk calf rose to his feet and began sniffing the book with that typical curiosity of small animals, something that could still get him into trouble if she ever applied the strict rules Thranduil had urged her to establish. Before Aradan's teeth would get a hold of the page she snapped the book shut and placed it back on the desk. She strolled over to the breakfast table and picked at the food rather aimlessly, searching for something, anything, to keep herself occupied and her mind busy, but to no avail. There was only one thing she really wanted to do right now, something that could not wait any longer, lest her heart would burst in her chest. She needed to see Thranduil, tell him that he finally could call her by her name.

But not like this. Looking down at herself she concluded that this was an occasion that called for a nice dress. She whirled around, sending her robe flying towards the bed, her nightshirt quickly following suit. Her fingers danced undecidedly atop several dresses in her closet until they came to a halt on a stone grey dress made of softest velvet, accompanied by a fitted bodice of black leather and matching black leather slippers. It was a simple yet exquisite piece of clothing with a high neckline and long, buttoned up sleeves, somehow tantalisingly modest, whilst flowing around her curves in a way that would have Thranduil's gaze rake over her body as if he could see right through the velvet cascades. It exuded the exact type of understated elegance she was hoping to convey. She slid the dress over her head, revelling in the smoothness of the fabric against her skin, carefully adjusting its fit and then swiftly proceeded to tighten the laces on the leather bodice without having to look at herself in the mirror while doing so, something she had finally mastered after four months of being dressed in elven gowns. She finished up the laces with a tidy bow at her waist, imagining how Thranduil's long fingers would undo it, slowly pulling the ribbons through the eyelets one by one until the bodice would slide off her shoulders, exposing the entirety of her velvet dress to the mercy of his hands.

She wanted him, needed him, consequences be damned, and it was obvious to her that he felt the same, his honour the only thing still holding him back from making her his. This time she would make sure that Aradan would not interrupt them again. She knew what was in her heart after she had finally said it out loud once, and she would do so again. She would look into Thranduil's eyes and would tell him that she loved him. No matter what the revelation of her past might bring, at this very moment this was her only truth. Her feet slid into the soft leather slippers and then she shot herself an assessing glance in the mirror. Her skin was glowing, the dark circles under her eyes gone, and even she herself had to admit that she looked quite pretty. Thanks to Brethilwen's expertise her hair was still in near pristine condition, her braid falling loosely down the middle of her back. For a moment she stood pondering if she should store the phial Brethilwen had given her in the small wooden box where she kept Faeldir's and Amardir's poem alongside Thranduil's tattered handkerchief. She closed her hand around the glass and then decided against it, the healer's words still ringing in her ears. Perhaps it wasn't wise to leave it behind, so she slid it into the pocket of her dress. One more thing occurred to her before she was ready to go to Thranduil's chambers. She carefully extracted the page from her book to take it with her, just to show him the written proof that she wasn't a nameless woman any more.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to stay here," she told Aradan who had been following her all around the room and looked at her now wide-eyed. "I need to go and see the king." Aradan angled his head and wagged his tail excitedly.

"Alone." She lowered her voice, standing with her arms akimbo. "And looking at me like that isn't going to convince me otherwise. Just curl up in your corner and wait until I come back, but don't get into my bed, not while I'm not here." She raised her eyebrows, the way she had seen Thranduil doing it when he gave out orders, her mouth drawn into a thin line. After a moment of hesitation Aradan lowered his head and then trotted obediently towards the pile of blankets and cushions that made up his bed in an alcove beside the pool.

"Good boy," Anna said, smiling and positively satisfied with herself. Maybe she was finally getting the hang of being more authoritative.

* * *

With a renewed bout of energy and her heart as light as a feather, she slipped through the concealed door, the vast expanse of Thranduil's bedchambers lying surprisingly quiet and empty before her. She strained to hear the resonant sound of his voice, even closed her eyes to will her ears to pick up the faintest echo of it, but all she could hear were the muffled voices of servants as they shuffled around in whatever hidden areas of his chambers. She looked around, scanning the room, her eyes darting to his favourite armchair beside the mantlepiece, but there was no trace of him nor of Gandalf. Two servants, young _ellith_ balancing enormous piles of bedsheets in their hands, promenaded past her towards the magnificent fourposter bed, but just like Brethilwen had hinted to Anna, Thranduil must have not gone to bed at all, as the perfectly wrinkle-free bedsheets looked pristine and unused. She couldn't help but think that it was about time that those sheets would see some activity which would actually merit them being changed. Still, out of habit or possibly following the king's orders, the servants would anyway provide the bed with a new set of equally elegant looking sheets, cream coloured and dark green silk, which she knew by now were the king's preferred colours when it came to bedding and upholstery. The elf maids greeted her with a small inclination of their heads, but they did neither stop her nor inquire, as everyone by now had gotten used to see her in Thranduil's chambers on a daily basis. Still, most servants rarely ever went beyond greeting her, or asking if she needed anything, and she was not quite sure if they were simply being polite in that slightly stiff and unemotional elven way, or if they still considered her a foreign addition to the royal household, albeit a welcome one. No one doubted that her presence was an actual blessing and had helped their king in greatly improving his mood and so much more. It was obvious in the way he strove to treat his subordinates with more patience, how he had so dedicatedly worked on repairing the broken relationship with his son. Even his playful sense of humour, buried under centuries of grief, had resurfaced, and Anna particularly enjoyed this lighthearted side of Thranduil, which made him appear so much more alive. But there was also no denying that the memory of the former queen still overshadowed whatever possible relationship was going to unfold between Anna and the Elvenking.

Now that she had recovered her own name, she was wondering if she might finally work up the courage to ask Thranduil for the queen's name, something he seemed to have keenly avoided mentioning to her. She did not mind, after all, the fact that he spoke so little about her, must mean that somehow he was indeed leaving this part of his life finally behind. But she still had the impression that there were too many unresolved aspects of his former marriage lingering, things that needed clearing up, if they were ever going to have a realistic chance of being together. The queen's image still haunted Anna's dreams and sometimes even her waking hours, the beautiful and serene face in the locket forever etched in her memory.

She wilfully ignored the bitter aftertaste that remained when she thought that, no matter what, her own mortality would forever separate them. She would still be mortal and he would be an immortal elf, so their relationship would be doomed to whatever tragic end. Unless there was a miracle coming to save them, but miracles didn't happen, not in real life anyway. She would need to make do with what she was offered, maybe a few decades of happiness with Thranduil until her body would wither and inevitably succumb to old age and then death, while he would live on, beautiful and ageless until the end of time. But she wouldn't let this thought spoil the happiness she felt, not today, so she pushed it to the back of her head, where it would stay hidden for as long as she could keep it from surfacing.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present and having checked all other possibilities, she decided to peek into Thranduil's study, a relatively small chamber, which was crammed with old tomes, maps, dusty objects of questionable origin, possibly unwanted gifts Anna had mused, as well as a rather ancient looking desk. Thranduil rarely used it though, as he much preferred the more comfortable desk in his bedchamber. Not only was it wider and looked more stately, but it also offered him to be able to work while enjoying Anna's company, something that the study could not provide, since it did not contain comfortable armchairs or cushioned settees, but rather displayed utilitarian furniture like wooden chairs, narrow shelves and said desk, which Thranduil seemed to have converted into a permanent storage area for discarded items. The room lay in a greyish gloom, the few sconces along the wall providing only minimal lighting, definitely not enough to be working in a comfortable way. She trailed her finger along the carved edge of the desk and allowed her eyes to adjust to the little light, but it was obvious that no one was in here. There were no voices and no motion, and even an elf and a wizard could not work in complete and utter silence. She let out a sigh and with sagging shoulders she made to turn around, resigned to the fact that Thranduil was nowhere to be found.

But then she remembered that in one of their rare visits to the study he had casually hinted to her, that the main purpose of him still using this room was the fact that it led to another, lower level of the palace, allowing him to reach that area without having to use the general hallways. When she had asked him where exactly this would lead, he had been rather vague and evasive. She knew him enough to conclude that this meant that she would not get anything more out of him, as this was his way of saying that he wasn't inclined to share any more details. It occurred to her that perhaps today was one of those moments where he had resorted to use the study as a means to actually go elsewhere. And indeed, her assumptions were confirmed when she discovered a suspicious crack in the back wall. It was the outline of a door, almost perfectly concealed between two shelves, quite narrow, but tall enough even for an elf of Thranduil's height to pass easily through. And the door stood ajar. With a racing heartbeat and trying not to think too much on the audacity of what she was about to do, she gave the door a tentative push and it swung open slowly, revealing a narrow stairway spiralling down. Whereto was impossible to tell, but she was determined to find out.

* * *

Torches were lit along the wall, illuminating the steep descent, so she gathered up the hem of her dress in her hands and without looking back she put her foot on the first step. Downwards it went, a little bit narrower and darker with every turn, and she had to keep her eyes on the ground, watching out for the unexpected uneven step, as she had nearly tripped already several times and was beginning to regret her decision to wear such a long and elegant dress for this unexpected excursion into the depths of the earth. The further down she went, the sparser were the torches and when she had finally reached the bottom of the stairway, she found herself faced with a long hallway, more of a tunnel really, that gently sloped downwards, its endpoint hidden in complete darkness. Two torches beside her were the only sources of light, so she didn't hesitate and lifted one of them out of its bracket to light her the way. Given that elves had much better eyesight than humans, they of course could make do with little light, while for Anna it appeared that she was facing pitch black night.

She lingered for a moment, hesitating, tentatively swinging the torch around her in a slow circular motion, but there seemed to be no imminent danger lurking in the unknown. Only the slightly mouldy smell of a place that had been enclosed and kept away from fresh air for far too long hit her nose. If she listened closely she could hear the rushing of water not far off, which meant that she was low enough to have reached the area where the Forest River passed directly under the palace. The temperature was surprisingly warm and the thought of finding Thranduil was incentive enough to keep going, so she gave herself a push and headed into the tunnel.

If Thranduil's palace was old, then this tunnel seemed downright ancient, maybe even older than the Elvenking himself. It did not even appear as if it had been delved into the rock by the Elves. Maybe the earth itself had opened up to make way for the passage, which did not show any of the beautiful ornaments or decoration the Elves usually liked to bestow upon practically any surface. The thought alone struck her with awe and she pushed the image of bulbous eyes and hairy bodies on eight legs far from her mind. There was no way that Thranduil would allow those foul creatures to sneak into these heavily guarded halls. At least that's what she told herself as she groped her way along the rocky walls that were beginning to feel increasingly moist beneath her fingers, her feet treading carefully to avoid misstepping on the floor with its occasional trickle of water crossing her path. Why, out of all her available shoes, had she chosen those thin leather slippers? She should have gone for her tall leather boots, much like the ones Thranduil preferred. Her toes were beginning to feel uncomfortably wet already and by the time she got to the end of wherever she was heading to, her feet would be possibly soaked. There were several times when she questioned her boldness and almost turned back, the feeling that she was being watched by invisible eyes creeping up insistently on her. Maybe she should have, just for once, tried to be patient and reasonable and have waited for Thranduil in her chamber instead of letting her curiosity get the better of her. But she shrugged off the feeling of guilt, as she was not really doing anything forbidden. Thranduil had never explicitly told her that she could not venture into these areas, and it was too late now to turn around anyway.

Before the next wave of doubts could surface, there was a faint golden light appearing at what might finally be the end of the tunnel. She increased her pace until she found herself faced quite abruptly with an unadorned wooden door, flanked by one torch and an empty metal mount on the other side, into which she slid her own torch. Crammed along the walls were several shelves, some of them tall, some low, but all of them stacked to the top with jars, vials, arrays of dried plants, collections of strange stones, a most wondrous mixture of items, which Anna could only guess, the Elvenking might need for whatever magical purposes of his. Her curious inspection was cut short by the sound of two voices coming from behind the door. There could be no doubt that one of them was Thranduil's. She knew the low and resonant baritone timbre well enough to recognise it. Excitement began to mount inside her chest and she bit her lower lip as she placed her hand on the doorknob, but then another voice made itself heard, its low rumble slightly roughened by age, which only could belong to Gandalf, and instead of opening the door she let go of the knob, leaning against the wall beside the door. Maybe this was her chance to hear whatever else Gandalf still knew of her. So she decided to linger, closed her eyes, straining her ears to listen closely to the conversation beyond the door. They seemed to move about inside. She could only catch the occasional phrase between the shuffling of their feet and the clinking of glass, the steady trickle of water making it even more difficult to clearly discern their words. She was almost ready to give up and head inside when suddenly she heard Gandalf say:

"What of Calithiel?"

She could hear Thranduil draw in a sharp breath. "What of her?" His words were clipped.

"Well, have you never considered the thought that she might be reborn?"

Anna swallowed away a lump in her throat, pressing herself closer into the wall behind her. The stone against her back wasn't nearly as cold as the sheet of ice settling around her heart.

Calithiel.

She might have just gotten her wish granted, as this could only be the queen's name. A beautiful name, fitting for such a beautiful _elleth_. Unlike her own, which suddenly appeared to her simple and plain. Anna, there was no mystery or alluring ring to it.

By all rights, she should not even be here and if she knew what was good for her, she should either turn around and head back right now, or go inside before it was too late. But she did none of the two things. Too tempting was the thought to finally hear what Thranduil had never told her, even if she would run the risk of hearing something she might later regret. And so, heart pounding madly in her chest, she stayed.

"I did cradle that hope once, yes, but not any more. I have given it up a long time ago, realising that I have been chasing after a ghost. Calithiel was ever pulled towards Valinor, never quite felt at home in the Great Greenwood and when the darkness fell, so did her spirit. She grew weary of this world at a frightening pace and no matter what I tried to make her happy, it was never enough. She knew when she had agreed to marry me, that I would have to stay, to linger until my duty here in Middle-earth was done. I am not just the king of this forest, but I am also its guardian, our fates inseparably entwined, a long time before I have bound myself to Calithiel. If I were to leave Mirkwood behind, it would wither and die, something I would never allow to happen. Without my presence everything here would succumb to the evil spreading from Dol Guldur. After Legolas was born, I still had hope that she would adjust and she would want to stay for him. A futile hope, as I knew that in the end she always wanted to sail West and leave Middle-earth behind and she wished for me to do the same, but I could not. So she made me promise her one thing."

"And what was that?" Gandalf's voice was remarkably subdued.

"Should I still wish to stay, she wanted me to make sure that Legolas would sail West when his time came, so she could be united with her son."

There was a pause.

"And you agreed?" Gandalf said into the silence.

"Yes, of course I did, though with reluctance at first, but I did not want to deny her the chance to be reunited with her son, even if it meant for me to be forever separated from both of them in the end. I always knew that I would first and foremost be a king and the leader of my people, so personal sacrifices on my part were to be expected."

Anna's heart tightened in her chest at hearing those words and she strained to hear what was said next, but they must have moved to a far away corner, because she could not make out any of the words exchanged between the two of them. There was quite a good amount of rummaging, opening and closing of closets or cupboards and she was quite sure that she even heard the distinct hissing of fire. Whatever they were brewing in there seemed to near its conclusion, and she had already reached for the doorknob to enter, assuming their conversation to be over, when the wizard's voice sounded again from inside.

"But do you love her?"

A moment of silence. Anna held her breath.

"Yes, I do and nothing will change that."

That was when the world around her spun faster and faster at a nauseating speed until it suddenly stopped completely, a black hole opening up beneath her. Slowly, ever so slowly, like in a bubble of air underwater, Anna could feel her heart shatter and then burst into a million pieces. The blood rushed to her head, drowning out any other sound, and she clamped her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, the sting of tears imminent in her eyes. Of course he still loved her. She was his wife after all, his queen, the mother of his only child. Elves only married once and he was no different. Her whole body was shaking as her insides crumbled to dust and her hand shot out towards the wall to keep herself from collapsing. Two fat tears clung to her lower lashes, slowly spilling over her cheeks.

'Nothing will change that,' he had said. Not even death would.

Even if she had long departed from these shores, she still remained ever present in his heart and most likely in the hearts of her people. How could she, a mere human, have had the presumptuousness of even thinking that she would ever take her place? This was turning into a nightmare and she was trapped inside it without the hope of ever waking up, no matter how hard she tried. Her fingernails dug into the craggy rock until she felt the warm trickle of blood on her fingertips. But she could not care less. The pain wasn't nearly as bad as the one that tore her insides apart. The laces on her bodice all of a sudden felt too tight and there wasn't enough air for her to breathe in this damp and forsaken place. What a fool she had been! What a terrible fool! And the worst of it was that Gandalf had made her confess to him that she loved Thranduil. He must be now either laughing at her or pitying her, possibly both.

She could not linger any longer. She had to get away from here, away from Thranduil, even if she still didn't have her memory back. Better no memory than to have to face him again, knowing that his heart still belonged to another. This wasn't her life to live, she knew it now. She broke away from the wall, stumbling sideways, not heeding where her feet treaded on the slippery floor. One of the narrow shelves with an array of delicate glass flacons and jars of earthenware swayed dangerously and then went crashing to the ground as she brushed against it with her shoulder. A loud clattering noise echoed through the tunnel, causing Anna to break into a frantic run. She did not bother to look back.

"Anna?" Thranduil's voice boomed through the raucous behind her.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, hot and salty. This was not the way she had envisioned hearing her name on his lips for the first time.

"Wait!" Thranduil called after her, but she did not turn around, did not want to have to look at him, at those brilliant blue eyes that had promised her such heavenly delight, only to throw her now into utter despair.

"Leave me alone!" she called into the darkness behind her, her voice choked.

Half blinded by the veil of tears she staggered through the dark tunnel, up and up, never stopping, never looking back, one hand grazing along the wall. The passage seemed not want to end until she finally saw the faint light of a singular torch marking the beginning of the stairway.

"Anna! Don't run away!" Again, her name. It cut like a dagger through her heart. His voice sounded much closer already, so she picked up her pace, gathering up the length of her dress in one hand. The stairs were uneven and she had to hold from the wall with her right hand so as not to stumble in the twilight. But Thranduil with his much longer stride had soon caught up with her and she felt his hand closing in around her wrist, turning her around towards him. His other hand went towards her waist, but she evaded his arm, his touch and the closeness of his body suddenly unbearable.

"Please, don't!" she said, backing away from him, trying to wrest her wrist from his grip, but he would not let go.

"Why are you running away? What did I do?" he said, his gaze boring into hers, but he refrained from pulling her closer towards him.

Her lips were trembling and her throat was all clogged up. "What you did? You are still asking me?" She turned her eyes away from him, the gloomy wall suddenly easier to look at than his beautiful face that seemed to speak only of betrayal.

"Tell me, please! Don't speak in riddles!" And then he suddenly paled. "Did you—, did you hear what we spoke?"

There were more tears streaming down her cheek, but she did not try to stop them. "Yes, I heard. I heard loud and clear when you said that you loved her."

"No," was all he said, shaking his head, his usual eloquence turned into speechlessness.

"Don't even try to deny it! You love Calithiel. That's her name, isn't it?" She threw him an angry glare, wriggling her wrist free from his hand.

"I—, Anna—," he began, but she cut across him, anger and rage flaring up inside her.

"Yes, that's my name. I see that Gandalf told you too. But it's her the one you love, the one you have always loved. I don't know what you thought that you were doing with me, but it's not working!"

She wiped her running nose on the back of her hand and then she pulled out the paper with her name from her pocket and shoved it against his chest.

"There, you can keep that! So you have something to remember me by when I'm gone!"

Without another glance at him she turned away, thundering up the stairs, all gracefulness forgotten. "And don't come after me!" she cried.

"Anna! This is a misunderstanding!" he called from the bottom of the stairs, standing rooted to the spot. "It is not what you think it is!" His voice echoed through the empty darkness ahead, but she had already reached the topmost landing and stormed through the door, throwing it shut behind her.

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _elleth/ellith_ \- female elf, female elves

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Sorry for the nasty cliffhanger *wicked and evil grin*, but this isn't going to sail as smoothly as both of them, or you dear readers, might have hoped for. There are many lingering issues, from past and present, waiting to be resolved.**

 **Should Anna have turned around when she still had the chance to do so? And what might Thranduil be hiding from her? It seems that he owes her an explanation.**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much welcome! Thank you folks :D!**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter. I'm planning to post it around Christmas ^^!**


	36. In His Hands

**A BIG thank you to all those lovely people who have reviewed the previous chapter: Silbellioz, DeLacus, glassary, earthdragon, ElectricSheep78, thrndlwood, d'elfe, Stardust043 and sapphire-deity!**

 **I also want to thank all those who have followed and/or favourited my story! I appreciate every single one of you!**

 **Have you been anxiously waiting to get that cliffhanger resolved? Well, do not fret, here it is: my Winter Solstice gift to all my loyal readers! Happy Yuletide and enjoy!**

* * *

 _Chapter 35 - In His Hands_

 _"_ _Some truths keep growing taller than giants_

 _Some truths take our breath away."_

(Sleeping At Last: South)

For how long Thranduil had been staring at the piece of paper in his hands he did not know. It contained one single word, Anna, written all over the page in that somewhat crooked but adorable handwriting of hers. He stood completely still like a statue as if he had been struck by lightning, only a slight tremble in his fingers revealing that he was actually alive.

"Thranduil!" Gandalf had caught up with him and came now to stand beside him, slightly out of breath. He glanced at the parchment in Thranduil's hand. "Oh, so it was her," he muttered into his beard and when Thranduil did neither speak nor move, he added, "shouldn't you be going after her?"

"Of course it was her!" Thranduil said gruffly, when he finally broke out of his paralysis. "Who else would follow me down here? She was probably searching for me and found the open door in my study that led her directly to the cave and straight into our conversation." He threw Gandalf an icy glare that barely could conceal the agitation boiling beneath.

"And she heard what we spoke." The wizard's words were more of an assessment than a question.

"Yes, she did and whatever she heard did not sit well with her." With an angry flick of his wrist he folded the paper in half and stuffed it into the pocket of his robe.

"Well, then go and clear it up and don't waste any time." Gandalf vaguely pointed with his hand upwards into the darkening stairs.

"She clearly said that she does not want me to follow her," Thranduil objected.

"You do know that this is not what she really means, don't you? Women sometimes say one thing and mean another," Gandalf stated flatly. "We are prepared to perform the spell whenever she is ready, so I would advise that you get this sorted out quickly."

"I do not think that I have asked for your advice in this particular matter." Thranduil was beginning to feel rather irritated. Why was this wizard suddenly claiming to be an expert in women?

"No, you have not, but I am giving it to you anyway, just one old friend to another."

Thranduil opened his mouth to object, but there was a sincerity in the wizard's eyes that made him reconsider.

"I know very well that you may not think of me in such friendly terms, but I do care for you more than what you may assume. You are a great king, the only true monarch of the Eldar left on the shores of Middle-earth, with powers beyond those of the other Elven lords and ladies. You have managed to keep your kingdom safe and your people out of harm's way even without the aid of a magic ring, which is no small feat. Your people, your forest, all of Middle-earth needs you whole and in full command of your powers, as the darkness is ever searching for a way to take a hold. The evil never sleeps, you know that as well as I do, as a matter of fact it might just have been awakened again and I fear that there is a dark storm brewing on the horizon. You are a bastion of all that is good on Arda, a beacon of hope if you will, but there is no shame in sharing what pains you and in accepting help when it is offered to you. You do not have to do everything alone nor keep everything to yourself. Opening up does not make you weaker, but it will give you more strength, will help you heal that which has been broken. Remember this when you speak to her. Tell her, let her in. She has a right to know about your past, or how else is she going to be part of your future?"

Thranduil's mouth was set in a thin line and he furrowed his brows, but to his own surprise he could not find a good reason why he should object to Mithrandir's words, so he only nodded in silent agreement.

"You are possibly right," he said somewhat resigned. "Perhaps I have underestimated your wisdom."

"Perhaps you have indeed, but there is a saying among Men." Gandalf absentmindedly scratched his beard. "Ah, yes," he exclaimed, throwing a finger in the air, "better late than never, I believe is the way it goes, or something along the likes of it."

"You do have a penchant for humans and their ways, don't you?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow in slight amusement.

"Oh, they are most interesting and full of surprises and they hold the future of our world in their hands. I guess you should try to get more accustomed to their ways too, since Anna undoubtedly is one of them."

"I will try," Thranduil said, taking a deep breath, "I may be an old elf, but I daresay that I am not beyond being able to take on a new challenge."

"Good," Gandalf nodded with a satisfied smile, "that's the spirit." And then he added, "I will be waiting in the cave and I expect you down there." He laid one hand on Thranduil's arm. "Both of you."

Thranduil swallowed and straightened his shoulders, his eyes meeting Mithrandir's.

"I will be back with her," he said, resolutely turning away from the wizard and climbing the stairs, two at a time.

Gandalf looked after him, shaking his head. "Elves," he muttered to himself as he turned around and disappeared into the darkened hallway.

* * *

Thranduil practically jumped the last three stairs leading up to the landing and stormed into his study, slamming the door shut behind him with such force that made the dust fall off the hinges. He was distraught and upset, angry at himself for not having foreseen such a turn of events. He had been so elated at the revelation of her name and the prospect of being able to grant her the wish of restoring her memory, that he had not even considered the possibility that she might want to come and see him right away. But he should have taken into account her curiosity and not have been so careless as to leave the door in his study ajar. It was only a matter of time until a half open door, leading into an area Anna had not previously seen, would undoubtedly be discovered by her eager eyes. Her impulsiveness was something he would need time to get used to.

"My lord!" The instant Thranduil exited the study, he was approached by Thalion, who seemed most eager to speak to him.

"What is it?" he said, reluctantly slowing down his pace. His patience was wearing dangerously thin.

"Tauriel has been waiting to be called to her meeting with you all morning. She wishes to know if you are still planning to see her or if maybe there has been a change of plans about which she has not been informed."

Thranduil exhaled a long breath. Of course she was waiting for him. He himself had told Tauriel to expect to be summoned any time this morning, but he had other, more important things now on his mind.

"There has indeed been a change of plans. Tell her to make herself useful in the meantime. I am sure my son can think of something. I have urgent business to attend to and will let her know when I shall be available."

"Of course, my lord," Thalion responded with a bow and swiftly turned away.

"And while you are at it, have a servant sent down to the cavern. There is something that needs cleaning up," he called after him.

Thranduil ignored the curious stares of two other servants, who froze with a pile of bedspreads in their hands, as he rushed past them, a storm cloud of quiet thunder. He only slowed down when he stepped through the concealed door and saw Anna's shape slumped on her bed, her face buried in her pillows and her body shaking with sobs.

Anna.

This strange human who unknowingly carried a piece of his soul. The one person fate had chosen to make him whole again. He let his hand slide into his pocket and closed his fingers around the folded piece of paper. A hopeful smile dawned on his face. He needed to make this right if he did not want to lose her now that he had been so close to winning her heart. This was his one chance Eru had given him and he would not throw it away. He had to restrain himself from storming towards her and pulling her into an embrace, kissing away all her tears, for the thought that she might reject him was too painful, so he only approached her with slow and measured steps, while trying to calm his racing heart.

* * *

Anna had kicked off her wet slippers, watching with an odd feeling of satisfaction as they bounced off the bedpost, and then had thrown herself onto her bed, which prominently featured a sleeping Aradan curled up right in the middle of a fluffy mountain of white pillows. Ignoring the presence of the animal altogether, she collapsed beside him in a heap of sobs, buried her face in the pillows, her hands digging into the sheets. It did not take long for the elk calf to shuffle closer, but she pushed him away none too gently, making him lose his balance and topple off the bed backwards.

"Not now," she mumbled, "go away!"

She didn't want anyone close, wanted only to fall asleep, never to wake up again. How could she have been so stupid as to believe that an Elvenking in all his endless lifetime would ever give his heart to a mortal woman? She hated herself for having fallen so readily for someone who obviously only saw her as a convenient distraction. And now she had ended up not only with her past missing, but also with her heart broken. She didn't even have the energy to get up and search for something she could smash against the wall in her anger and when she turned her head sideways, she stared into a pair of brown eyes. Aradan was standing beside the bed, watching her with something that might be described as concern. But she didn't care, no amount of cuteness would be able to lift the clouds of despair closing in on her.

"Leave me alone! Go to your corner. Jump into the pool. Do whatever you want. It doesn't matter to me!" she grumbled, pulling the covers over her head, prepared to wallow in self-pity a few more moments before Thranduil would show up in her room — she was quite sure about it —, with some refined speech to vindicate himself. But she didn't care about that either, or maybe she did, but she was too hurt to admit this even to herself.

She did not hear him enter, but she felt his presence, even before he made himself noticed by quietly speaking her name. "Anna."

It sounded so beautiful from his mouth, like a caress on her soul and if she weren't so angry with him, she would have asked him to repeat it a hundred times just to hear him saying it again and again. But now it was just like a stab in her heart, making fresh tears burst forth.

"I need to speak to you," he said calmly and then she could feel the mattress dip under his weight. He had sat on the edge of the bed and she felt him tugging at the covers, but she clung to them as if they were her shield against whatever possible harm. Sensing her resistance, he did not insist on pulling them away, but simply laid his hands on her back. The warmth of his hands, even through the covers, was setting her skin on fire, the softness of his touch so temptingly treacherous. But she would not give in so soon, wouldn't make this too easy for him.

"But I don't want to! I've heard enough already!" she muttered into her pillows, wiping her face on the already wet fabric, while she fought to shrug off his hands by viciously wriggling under the covers and kicking with her knees against his backside.

"I told you not to follow me! Go away!" she shouted from under the covers.

"Anna, now you are acting like a child!" He was beginning to sound rather unnerved, his strong hands clamping down on her legs to keep her from pushing him off the bed. "Will you please stop kicking me and come out of your hideout, so we can speak like two adults!"

That was enough to set her off. Before he could reach again for the covers, she angrily yanked them off herself, tossing them away in a wide arc and nearly throwing them right over Thranduil's head in the process. He dodged it on time, thanks to his superior reflexes or whatever other gift of foresight he might possess. She sat bolt upright in bed, her arms crossed in front of her chest, and faced him with an angry glare and whatever brittle remains of her dignity she still had left.

"Oh, so now I'm acting like a child, but you're so full of your infinite elven wisdom that you can't even find the decency to tell me that you will never love me the way you love her? You can keep your condescendence. I have no use for it! I know that I will always be a child to you, a silly overemotional human with too little self control! Just admit it, that's what you really think about me!" She didn't know where all the words came from, only that they wouldn't stop. "I know that I will never be as composed and elegant and reasonable as you, but at least I am honest about the way I feel." He stared at her with his mouth half open and she avoided looking into is eyes, because if she did, the intensity of his gaze would rather sooner than later drown out her heated barrage. "I don't need to keep things away from others and I don't need to deprive them of their past to win their hearts only to later break them again." Her lower lip was trembling and she could feel another wave of tears building up in the back of her eyes. "I—, I can't do this anymore. Just go, go away," she broke off, extending her hands towards the covers.

"Anna, please, listen to me!" he tossed the covers away before she could bury herself under them again and reached out for her shoulders to pull her closer towards him.

"Stop saying my name," she muttered between sobs, pushing her flat hands against his chest.

"But I want to say your name and I will not stop now." The sudden surge of authority in his voice made her hands slack and her eyes went to his throat and the way it bobbed as he swallowed. The thought of pressing her lips against the pulsing vein along his neck flashed through her mind. She tore her eyes away from the equally tempting sight of his collarbone just beneath, scolding herself for allowing him to affect her so. She was furious, literally boiling with rage, yet she still wanted him. Even more so, the feeling of ire burning through her veins set her on edge in a way that made her want to rip off his clothes and crawl under his flawless porcelain skin.

"Anna!" The low rumble of his voice tore her from her improper reverie. His hands were clamped tightly around her upper arms and he held her at a distance from him to be able to look at her face. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes—," she muttered, her eyes drawn to the neat row of impeccable silver clasps running down the middle of his chest, and only when he reached for her chin to make her look up to him, she finally said: "No, I—what?"

She had been completely absent, realising now with shame that she had not heard a word of what he had said.

He briefly closed his eyes, opening them again with a deep breath. "Please, this is important!" he said, his body so close to hers that it took all her willpower not to crumble in his arms. "Yes, you are emotional and impulsive and I wouldn't want you any other way, because there is a fire burning inside you and I want those flames to guide me through my darkness, but you are making this rather difficult for me."

"I am making this difficult for you?" she blurted out, her voice jumping nearly an octave higher than the usual. "Aren't you forgetting that you were the one who brought me here, never telling me quite the truth about pretty much anything? You are not making this easy for me either!" She was on the brink of losing the last shreds of her self control.

"You have every right to be upset with me, as I have not been as honest with you as I should have been. You do deserve to know the truth."

Anna's eyes widened and she felt a growing lump in her throat, dreading to hear what would come next. He rubbed his hands up and down her shoulders and then wrapped his fingers around them in a strong grip, so she wouldn't slump back into bed.

"You are right, we were talking about my wife, about Calithiel, and I am sorry if I have made you feel that I have been hiding things about her from you. That was not my intention. It was a mistake, just like so many other things in my life I have done wrong. Forgive me please. It is something that is still too painful to talk about, so I have kept much of it away from you, but I want to make it right, so I will tell you everything there is to know about her and you may ask me anything you wish."

"But I heard you—," she began, but he interrupted her.

"Please, let me finish what I was going to say." His eyes were pleading. "When Mithrandir asked me that question, he was not referring to Calithiel."

"He wasn't?" Silents sobs were still heaving Anna's chest, but the heaviness around her heart began to lift like rainclouds after a thunderstorm.

"No," he said, bringing one hand to her face to wipe away the tears.

Anna's lips were trembling. "So, when you said that you loved her you meant—," she swallowed, her voice suddenly gone.

He nodded. "Yes, I meant you." With a smile he leaned closer, cupping her face with his hands, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"You—, you love me?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Yes," he said, grazing her wet cheeks with his thumbs, "and I should have told you first and not the wizard."

She slid her hands up his chest to curl her fingers around the open collar of his robe, bringing his face closer to hers.

"I told him so too," she whispered, her lips only a hair's breadth from his.

"You did?" His hands went still and the starlight in his eyes was the most brilliant blue she had ever seen.

"Yes."

His answering smile melted against her lips and when he kissed her, it was gentle, yet firm and with assurance. The softness of his mouth sent sparks flying through her veins, a blinding light to conquer all darkness. She felt a tug on her soul, like a gossamer thread, warm and golden, reaching out from him to her and spinning itself around her, pulling her closer to him. He pressed his lips fervently against hers, wanting and searching, his tongue parting her lips with urgency. A small moan escaped her as she granted him entrance and then she let herself fall into the heavenly bliss of feeling his need for her on her skin. They had kissed before, but this felt different, like the promise of something new.

He gently nipped at her bottom lip before pulling away and his voice did not waver when he spoke. "I want you to know, Anna, that I love you with all my heart. I love you for being untamed and wild, honest and unspoilt, and if sometimes you appear like a child to me, it is only because you are so very young. Everything you do, you do it with such abandon, and I painfully realise that this is something I have lost a long time ago. The truth is that I have much to learn from you. _Gi melin_ , _lotheg nín,_ " he whispered into her ear, "and nothing will change that."

"Thranduil," she murmured, the warmth of his breath caressing the shell of her ear like a gentle breeze. She placed feathery kisses along the line of his jaw, watching Thranduil's eyelids flutter close as her lips grazed, ever so slowly, over the smooth plane of his face.

"I love you," she breathed against his skin and then she pulled aside the fabric of his robe to sink her lips into the enticing hollow right on top of his collarbone, the vein in his neck pulsing rapidly beneath her touch. "My heart is yours. It has been yours since before I have dared to admit it to myself," she confided, gradually kissing her way up his neck. She planted a kiss right under his ear, making him draw in a sharp breath.

"I may not know what the future holds in store for me, but there is one thing I know beyond doubt."

His eyes flew open when she brought her mouth to his ear and whispered through the silvery strands of his hair: " _Gi melin_ , _aran nín_ , come what may."

"Come what may," he repeated, locking eyes with her, and then he kissed her again, slow and without haste, his lips exploring every corner of her mouth and it wasn't until they were both nearly breathless from the sensual tangle of their tongues that Thranduil finally broke the kiss.

"We will find a way to make it work. I promise," he said, his hands weaving through her hair, his mouth brushing hers just lightly.

That was when her worries threatened to resurface, but she would not allow them to spoil the beauty of this perfect moment, so she only nodded and said. "I trust you."

He pulled her against his chest into a tender embrace and she settled with her head in the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled into the silvery folds of his robe, "I feel so silly now. I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that and overhearing your conversation was anything but reasonable. And I feel awful about all the mean things I said to you. I was just so upset and I didn't know what to do with all my anger. Please forgive me." She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be enveloped by his sweet and slightly musky scent, the steady beating of his heart making her feel protected from all harm. "I thought that I had lost you," she added in a small voice.

"You haven't lost me. I am right here with you and I plan on staying." He planted a kiss on the crown of her head and she thought to feel him smile.

"Although I do have to agree with you that what you did was not a very wise thing, there is no need for you to apologise nor to feel silly. It is I who should apologise. I deserved every single thing you said, just like you deserve to know the truth about my past and not just have some fragments you overheard paint a crooked image in your mind. Calithiel will always be a part of my life and she will always be the mother of Legolas, but I would rather be thinking on our future together than dwell on the past."

She snuggled closer and he wrapped his arms firmly around her, one hand drawing lazy circles on her back. She could feel him exhale slowly before he spoke again.

"And, yes I did love Calithiel, very much so, and I was heartbroken when she died. But I knew that, should she wish to be reborn, she would never return to Middle-earth, too strong was her desire to sail West."

Anna found it easier to listen to him with her face buried in his chest rather than looking into his face, as she was embarrassed that he would see the simmering gleam of jealousy in her eyes. She knew that she was being unreasonable, after all he had just confessed his love to her, but hearing him say out loud that he had once loved another still felt like a thorn in her heart.

"It took me a long time, too long, to accept this as a reality, but I know it now. She had known this for a long while, had felt it in her heart. The gift of foresight was more pronounced in her than in most of our kin, but it haunted her like a curse. I believe she even foresaw the doom that would befall her, which is why she was so adamant about me not going to Erebor to retrieve the necklace. She must have seen a terrible darkness on the horizon, something inherently evil that would eventually claim her life and condemn me to a cursed existence. As you well know, fate did take its predestined course and Calithiel was taken from me in the most cruellest way imaginable. I hope you do understand, that I do not wish to lay out all the details of her death, as it is still too harrowing for me to put those horrible moments in words, but let it suffice to say that for a very long time I only wished to have died alongside her and the only thing that has kept me alive was the responsibility I had for our son."

He paused, hugging her tighter in a wordless embrace, and for a moment Anna thought that these old wounds might have rendered him speechless, but then he found his voice again.

"I know I wasn't as good a husband to Calithiel as I should have been and too many times I turned a blind eye to her concerns, putting what I thought were my kingly duties first, which eventually led to me being away when I should have been by her side." His voice had gone very quiet, nearly a whisper. "I listened not when I should have, and it was too late when I finally heard. But I will not make those same mistakes again. If Eru in his infinite wisdom has indeed granted me this chance, I will make sure to treasure this unexpected gift."

He tipped her chin up so she would look into his eyes. "You have brought me so much joy and filled this palace with new life in a way I had forgotten that it even existed. For that I am forever grateful."

* * *

He brought her hands to his mouth to kiss them, but as he did so, an equally amused and worried look dawned on Thranduil's face.

"What did you do to your fingers?" he said, holding her flat palms up. The greyish shadows of ink had mixed with dirt and dried up blood, residues from when she had scraped her skin down in the tunnel. She had not even given it another thought, but now that she saw it up close, it did look as if she had been crawling on all fours through the dirt and to her dismay the beautiful dress didn't look much better.

"N—nothing," she said quickly, evading his gaze. She didn't need another lecture on cleanliness.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and brought her hands closer to his face. "This does not look like nothing to me."

"I—I was just writing," she stuttered, slightly embarrassed, "and those walls down there have not seen a cleaning in centuries."

"Mmhm, I see, and you have some serious scratches too," he said, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles.

"They are just superficial and will heal again," she countered. He was definitely making a big fuss over a little bit of dirt and blood. "I'll go and get myself cleaned up."

She was going to rise, but he held her back.

"Let me do that for you," he offered and before Anna could say anything to stop him, he had already jumped to his feet to retrieve a small bowl which he filled with water from the pool as well as a washcloth and a towel. Aradan curiously followed him around, wagging his small tail now and then and when Thranduil gestured to him wordlessly, the elk calf made for the pile of cushions and blankets in his alcove. A small smile dawned on her face seeing Thranduil like this all concerned for her wellbeing. How could she even for a minute have doubted his sincerity, when even these smallest gestures showed her how much he cared for her?

He diligently placed the bowl on the bedside table, pulled up a chair in front of her, and began rolling up the sleeves of his robe. Anna bit her lower lip when she saw those toned arms being exposed, his muscles flexing with every motion. Usually they were, just like most of his body, hidden from view under the heavy brocade fabric of his robes or the lighter one of his linen tunics. There was so much strength contained in their elegant shape and she wondered how it would feel to have them pin her to his bed, no fabric separating them, just skin against skin.

"You like what you see?" he said, grinning, when he caught her outright staring at him.

This time she grinned back, emboldened by his recent confession. "Yes, and I wouldn't mind seeing more."

He smirked at her as he removed his rings one by one, placing them beside the bowl. "I am sure that can be arranged sometime soon. But first let me take care of your hands, so we do not make the poor wizard wait for too long. "

He gripped the backrest of the chair and then took a seat opposite her. He began by spreading the towel across her lap to keep the dress from getting wet and then he reached out for her hands to unbutton her sleeves.

"This dress might need a cleaning too," he remarked while slowly working through the buttons, the velvet fabric sporting dark stains along the sleeves as well as all around the length of the hem, a visual reminder that elegant dresses and dark tunnels did not go well together. "And whoever ordered this dress with so many buttons?" he added, when he had finally finished and proceeded to roll up her sleeves, exposing her slender arms to his eyes.

"I think that would be you," she stated, "and it has not just buttons, but also laces."

"Does it indeed?" He trailed his fingers from the crook of her arm down towards her wrists.

"Yes, lots of them." Goosebumps crawled on her skin in the wake of his touch. "Maybe you should take a look at those later," she proposed boldly.

"Maybe I will." His dark brows rose suggestively and then he dipped the washcloth into the bowl, wringing it with one hand to allow the excess water to drip down his hand and back into the bowl before bringing it to her hands.

She could barely keep still, her toes curling underneath her dress, watching entranced at how his long fingers worked with such elegant efficiency around her own and there was no denying that he was equally enjoying himself, his brows slightly frowned in concentration. It was impossible for her to look away and she was surprised that her fingers only trembled slightly as he passed the washcloth between them, one by one, making sure that he did not miss a single spot.

"One day," he said, narrowing his eyes as he scrubbed a particularly difficult spot on the inside of her palm, "I will make sure to not only wash your hands." He held her hand up closer to inspect it and then dipped the washcloth into the bowl to wet it once again.

"Sounds very intriguing." There was a tingle slithering down her spine at the mere thought of what this promise might entail.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he brought the washcloth back to attend to her other hand. "I am thinking of inviting you to join me in my pool." He watched as a single droplet dripped down the length of her little finger, catching it with the washcloth to keep scrubbing her skin in slow and steady circular motions. "If you were to accept my invitation, of course."

He paused his ministrations to look up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes, to then add in a sultry voice: "I promise you that I would pay close attention to all areas of your body that may need cleaning."

Anna's mouth fell open. She could barely believe what she was hearing. Thranduil was offering her a bath together. In his pool. Obviously no clothes involved. Her excitement must have been plastered all over her face, because he said with a wicked grin: "I take that as a yes," to then direct his attention back to his task at hand.

"Of course I accept. How could I refuse such a tempting offer," she said slightly breathless, when she had found her voice again, her cheeks burning with the fire he had ignited inside her.

"Good." He nodded, his skilful fingers working torturously slow through every single crevice and Anna couldn't help but imagine how exactly his hands would feel on those other areas of her body. He worked on in silence, using the tip of one of his perfectly manicured fingernails to peel off the residues of blood that had clotted along the edges and ridges of her own, less perfectly manicured fingernails. Beneath his magical touch the superficial scrapes and bruises on her skin vanished one after the other. His hair had fallen over his shoulders, cascading in long strands of silvery gold around his face and brushing their hands lightly as he moved. Anna had to fight the urge to reach out and run her hands through the silken tendrils. If it indeed came to that shared bath, she would make sure to attend to his body in the same way he planned attending to hers. And she wasn't merely thinking on washing his hair, his luscious locks being only one part of his body she longed to get her hands on.

Thranduil dropped the washcloth in the bowl carefully enough so as not to send the water sloshing over the edge. He gathered the lengths of his hair in one hand to throw them back over his shoulders and then proceeded to study her hands as if they were a piece of art, turning them around slowly, so he could see them from all angles.

"Beautiful," he breathed, his thumbs grazing gently over her narrow wrists, "your hands are so very lovely."

She stared at her own hands cradled in his much larger ones and for a moment time seemed to have stopped its restless flow. After what could have been an eternity or just an instant, he placed a gentle kiss atop every single finger and rolled down her sleeves, buttoning them up again.

"As good as new." He flashed her a toothy grin, picking up the towel from her lap and folding it to place it atop the bedside table.

Anna admired her perfectly clean hands, holding them up in front of her face. "You know, if you ever get tired of being king you could turn this into a full time profession, although I really wouldn't want you touching anyone else like this."

He rose from his seat, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Rest assured that for one I will never tire of being king and also the only person I wish to touch in this way is you."

He proceeded to roll down his own sleeves and put back his rings, adjusting their position until they were to his satisfaction.

"That's good to know," Anna said, a warm and fuzzy feeling coiling in her stomach. She rose from her bed and smoothed down her dress, readjusting the fit of her bodice. When she felt his gaze on her, she looked up to him and met his eyes, apprehension and affection mingling in their blue depths.

"It seems that you are finally ready to meet your past." He held out his arm to her. "Are you?"

"Yes." She nodded, still somewhat shaky, and took his arm. He placed his hand atop hers and the warmth of his body made her feel a little less queasy.

Ready or not, the only path towards her future led through her past, and with a racing heartbeat she allowed Thranduil to lead her to where her fate was waiting for her.

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _gi melin_ \- I love you

 _lotheg nín_ \- my little flower

 _aran nín_ \- my king

* * *

 **Author's Note: It seems that we are finally getting there. Anna is going to recover her memory and we'll see what she has to tell us. I hope you have enjoyed this chapter and the tender scene between Anna and Thranduil. Yes, they confessed their love to each other, finally!**

 **Who'd have thought that washing someones hands could be such a sensual act, but of course then Thranduil's hands are truly magical in every way *sighs*.**

 **And what do you think, should this bath Thranduil has in mind for both of them, find its way into the story? *wink wink***

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter ^^!**


	37. A Spell to Remember

**First of all: THANK YOU so much for waiting and I am REALLY sorry it took so long *hides in the darkest corner of Mirkwood*. I'm now mainly working on my original fantasy story "The Enchanted Spring", so my updates will be in general slower. But I prefer to take my time and work with the same amount of dedication to detail, rather than rushing through the rest of the story, of which there is still a lot to tell. Thank you for being understanding and patient. I really appreciate it!**

 **Thank you to all those lovely people who have left reviews on the preceding chapter: Archangel of Fire 777, thrndlwood, durinsdaughter2469btw, Averlovi, sapphire-deity, ElectricSheep78, Silent Bellios, RegencyGirl17, Wistari, DeLacus, Guest, Andrea(Guest) and CrazyCat. You are all very much appreciated!**

 **Onwards then to the next chapter, where the time for Anna to recover her memory has finally come...**

* * *

 _Chapter 36 - A Spell to Remember_

Returning to the ominous tunnel a second time was infinitely better with Thranduil by Anna's side. His presence alone seemed to keep the darkness at bay. The lighthearted teasing about how she should have avoided her dress from getting stained had her in a joyful mood most of the way, even though she knew that she was literally heading into the unknown.

"It's true," he said, lightly tapping her hand with his fingers as they walked on, their arms linked, "when have you ever seen me getting my clothes so dirty in such a short amount of time?"

"That's just because you are the fabled Elvenking, who knows his way through this tunnel, and I'm not," she countered, nudging him gently with her elbow, "besides I had other things on my mind than the state of my dress as you well know. If I had known that you would be lecturing me like this, I would have taken my time and put on a fresh dress apart from the boots."

"That is true, of course," he said, nudging her back, "besides, you are always a pleasure to look at, no matter what you're wearing."

A grin spread on her face. "You do know that you are not only very, very ancient, but also dangerously charming?"

"Oh, I am well aware of that, but it's always nice to hear it again, especially the charming part," he said smugly, leading her through the darkness with unwavering assurance.

To her delight Anna found that he seemed more talkative than the usual, even about the secrets of his palace.

He told her about the tunnel's origin, allegedly dating back to a time where the Sindar under Oropher had not yet established themselves as rulers of _Eryn_ _Galen_ in _Amon Lanc._ When Thranduil himself had led his people away from the Mountains of Mirkwood even further into the North to build these underground halls, this tunnel as well as several others, which interconnected to form a veritable network, had been discovered by the elves as they dug their own dwellings into the earth. This most interesting piece of history was unfortunately cut short by their arrival at the wooden door, but Anna made a mental note to ask him more about this later.

To Anna's surprise the toppled shelf had already been put back in its place and whatever had survived the fall, had been neatly stacked again, the flacons and earthenware jars looking a bit lonely with all the empty spaces between them. A flash of guilt made Anna realise that she might have unwillingly destroyed some possibly valuable ingredients with her undue outburst.

"Do not fret about the shelf," Thranduil said when he caught her embarrassed look. "I keep everything of importance in the cave and it's about time that these shelves get sorted out and reordered. I daresay they have been collecting more dust than value over the years."

Anna nibbled at her lower lip. "Still, I am sorry that I have caused such a mess. It wasn't my intention to break things."

He gave her an understanding smile. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, as they stood facing the entrance of the cave, his hand resting on the door knob.

"Yes," she said with an assurance that she actually did not quite feel. She turned towards him, looking up into his face. "But I am also scared."

He leaned down, letting go of the handle to brush a strand of hair from her face. "I know," he said softly, "but you need not be afraid. Mithrandir has assured me that the spell will work and you do not have to fear any risk."

She nodded, not quite convinced, and then she wordlessly flung her arms around his neck and raised herself on tiptoes to press a kiss to his mouth. He leaned down and met her lips with his, kissing her back. When he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, then lower, encircling her hips, she was nearly ready to throw over her plan of ever recovering her memory. It would be so much easier to just head back up to the royal chambers, instead of undergoing another spell, which might or might not go wrong and destroy whatever small piece of happiness she had built herself with Thranduil.

He pulled away from her mouth, resting his forehead against hers.

"Anna," he breathed, "I am here for you, with you. Never forget that."

"I know, Thranduil," she whispered, searching again for his lips. "I know."

He regarded her for a moment solemnly, and then he claimed her mouth again, devouring her like a starving man would his favourite meal. The door was suddenly pulled open from the inside, but Thranduil's lips lingered on hers for another beat, hungry for more, before he broke the kiss, leaving Anna's cheeks heated and her heartbeat racing.

Gandalf's wrinkled face appeared in the door crack, his bushy eyebrows raised in amusement. "Am I interrupting something?"

The wizard swung the door wide open and winked at Anna, a smile blossoming on her face.

"Your observational skills are impressive as always." Thranduil had schooled his face into a facade of cool indifference and without further ado, he stepped over the threshold with Anna by his side, Gandalf making way for both of them.

* * *

If the tunnel was dark and gloomy, the cave was something else altogether. It was unexpectedly wide and spacious, even lofty, despite its underground location. Torches along the walls casted flickering shadows. But before Anna had time to take in any of the details, as astonishing as they might be, a sudden power rose around her, sweeping over her like a tidal wave. She froze on the spot, one hand clutching at the folds of her dress, the other groping blindly for Thranduil by her side, who had wrapped his hand firmly around hers.

Something began to tug and pull, whisper and sing, the air itself brimming over with an incessant humming that crawled right under her skin. A myriad of colours pressed against her eyes, but when she blinked again, they had shifted, changing into something else. Everything around her seemed to simultaneously evolve and cease to exist, grow and diminish, flicker to life and turn to ashes; an endless circle spinning and closing in on her. Anna's head was dizzy, her knees had turned to jelly and the little hairs on her neck were standing on end. Thranduil tightened his grip on her hand. His presence was a steadfast anchor in the rioting sea of unknown forces that crashed in on her with a pounding rhythm.

"What is this?" she finally managed to breathe through the exploding chaos in her head and for a moment she was terrified that it was just simply that, a figment of her imagination, the onset of madness.

"It is the magic of the forest you feel. In here its power flows freely, pure and unbridled, and its strength can be overwhelming at first, especially for you as a human." Thranduil's resonant voice was barely able to drown out the elemental storm that hit her senses. "But there is no need to be afraid. Do not try to fight it, just allow it in."

"B—but I can't! Everything is attacking me at once!" she said, clinging to his tall frame to keep herself from being sucked into the maelstrom that threatened to tear her sanity to shreds. Her blood rushed through her veins in a frightening tempo, silencing every clear thought in her head.

"It is pulsating like a heart, a living and breathing thing. Close your eyes and listen carefully to the song of the forest, follow its lead and you see that you will join the harmony and attune to its beat."

She tried to make sense of his words, to focus on his hand holding hers and then somewhere deep inside she found a flicker of courage. Closing her eyes she gave in to the power around her. At first she felt like drowning, struggling for air, the urge to fight whatever was trying to pull her under becoming increasingly overwhelming.

"I can't!" It broke out of Anna, her voice choked.

"You are holding your breath. Let it go." Thranduil's words seemed to reach her from far away, like through a wall of water.

Finally she loosened a long breath she had not realised she had been holding. She willed herself to steady her breathing and as the air flowed slowly through her, the storm around her began to calm, voices lowering to a whisper, vibrant colours dimming, the prickling sensation on her skin receding. The relentless waves gradually ebbed away, as if the forest had been testing her strength, at last considering her worthy. It pulled her gently into its everlasting dance, the low rumble of roots anchoring themselves deep inside the earth, leaves fluttering in the autumn wind like orange and red butterflies. The determination of young buds pushing through the ground was in every fibre of her body. She was the sigh of branches in a summer storm, the gracefully swaying flowers in the spring breeze, the glittering white dress of treetops in winter. She was each one and all of it at once.

Like resurfacing from a dream, Anna opened her eyes. She blinked, still slightly dazed, and then she caught Thranduil looking at her.

"You did well," he said with appreciation in his voice. "Only few humans manage to withstand this power the first time they are faced with it."

Anna was still slightly shaken, her voice a bit hoarse. "It's beautiful and frightening at the same time. I could feel all the ancient wisdom buried within it, the pain and the suffering, but there was also hope, the unbroken will to renew itself, the determination to endure and bring forth new life, even against all odds." She paused, feeling Thranduil's eyes watching her intently. "Is this how you feel the forest?"

"Yes," he nodded slowly, "I carry all of it inside me, every tree and every root, I feel every leaf stirring in the wind and every bud blossoming anew." A shadow crossed his face, his glamour faltering for the briefest of moments. "Every broken branch, each tree trunk infested by evil, settles within me like a rotting thorn, its sickness spreading, the hope of ever recovering from it, growing dimmer with every passing season." His mind appeared to have gone far away, a gleam of resignation and defeat darkening the brilliant blue of his eyes.

"But there is still hope. I saw it and I heard it." She squeezed his hand which had suddenly gone cold. "As long as there is someone willing to believe in it, not all is lost."

The corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile and a flicker of warmth returned to his eyes. "Your hopefulness is admirable."

"If I give up hope, what's the purpose of going on living?"

"Perhaps if you had seen as many dark times as I have, you would not be so sure about it anymore."

"Well, in that case it's good that I am not quite as old as you are. Being human certainly does have its advantages."

She leaned into Thranduil and gave him a cheeky grin. He raised an eyebrow in return, then placed a kiss atop her head.

"Your wisdom is as astonishing as is your hopefulness," he whispered and she could feel him smiling into her hair.

"She certainly has you wrapped around her finger." Gandalf chuckled, his thumbs casually hooked into his belt. The wizard had observed the whole scene with utmost curiosity. "If I ever called you old and ancient, you would not be so forgiving."

"I most certainly would not," Thranduil said, but even Anna could hear the faint trace of amusement in his voice.

"There is much for you to see," he said to her, waving his hand at the vast expanse opening up ahead of them. "This cave is one of the places in the forest where power is given and received. There are two more, the portal tree and at the source of the Enchanted River in the Mountains of Mirkwood further south. There are others still, but since the darkness has fallen on my lands, they have been too dangerous for my people to set foot anywhere near them."

* * *

Now that her body and mind had finally adapted to the power inhabiting this place, she was able to take a look at her surroundings.

She had expected some kind of laboratory, but this looked more like a sanctuary, a haven for all things that grow, a subterranean greenhouse of sorts. A gurgling sound filled the air, as if there were a river rushing through the cavern, but the view further ahead was obstructed by a large array of tall shelves, which were placed in spacious rows all throughout the cave. Some were easily taller than the Elvenking himself, their top tiers obscured by shadows, and upon each of them stood a multitude of pots housing plants of various sizes. The majority appeared to be ranging from saplings to young plants, all in different shades of green, from a healthy fresh spring green to a sickly pale yellow. One long table along the right side of the cavern was filled with a sad display of what appeared to be a heap of rotten wood, overgrown with fungus, pieces of bark infested with patches of distinctly evil looking lichen stacked beside it. A large crate was filled to the top with roots sticking out at odd angles which bore an unsettling resemblance to twisted legs of giant spiders.

Thranduil appeared to have read Anna's thoughts as he pointed an elegant finger towards said corner.

"Many of the plants are sick as you have seen, so I have begun to bring some of them here to try and heal them, find a cure for what has befallen them. Unfortunately many are beyond what even I can do for them and they will wither and die, but even if I succeed in saving one it is a victory against the darkness, though a small one." He brushed a tender finger over a particularly small fern, its leaves still curled up tightly like a green snail shell.

Towards the middle of the cavern's left wall there appeared to be a narrow opening. It emanated a bright greenish glow, as if the forest itself had just been tucked into the rock right behind it.

"May I?" she asked Thranduil, her curiosity stirred up.

"You may look around as you wish," he said with an inviting smile.

Anna treaded closer, her fingers grazing along the rough and humid surface of the cavern's wall. The green glow intensified when she reached the entrance, wide enough for two people to step through abreast. It opened up into a beautiful small grotto that was nothing short of stunning. A thick rug of moss covered the grotto's floor in its entirety, while vines crawled up the walls, their heavy leaves nearly hiding every evidence of the rock behind them. Trumpet shaped blossoms dotted the green with dark purple and pale white petals. From above, through whatever ingenious way of elven engineering, there were even slivers of daylight peeking through what appeared to be slanted openings. Even despite being thoroughly underground, this secluded grotto felt closer to the forest and its vegetation than any other place she had ever visited in the palace. Everything was vibrant and alive and if she had to put in words what she saw, she would have said that this had to be nothing less than the true heart of the forest. There was such an air of peacefulness and serenity to it that Anna did not dare venture further and simply admired this lush oasis from the entrance.

Thranduil had ambled closer and came to stand beside her, his arms folded behind his back.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said, tilting his head towards her, obviously pleased by the look of awe on her face.

"Yes, it is. I never expected to find anything like this so far underground."

"My palace does have a few surprises. It is called _Thurin Galen_ and just like the Queen's Repose this is another place of peace and quiet," he said, "although the reason why something like this exists, is one I would rather have wiped out from the face of Middle-earth. When the darkness infested more and more parts of my forest, I began to use this cavern not only as a place of healing for the damaged plants, but also to keep samples of healthy ones, like you see them in this grotto. So whenever the evil finally passes, I hope to be able to help the forest regrow at a faster pace."

"But when will that happen?" Images of her own struggles through the spider infested thickets of Mirkwood came flashing through her mind, and despite her earlier hopefulness, an uncomfortable feeling now settled in her stomach.

"With Sauron having fled Dol Guldur there has been a lifting of the shadows as of late and we might even be facing a beautiful spring after so many dark ones," Thranduil said, "perhaps the forest will even be able to regain some of its former strength, although I do not believe that the evil has been banished once and for all. Sauron now hides in Mordor, bidding his time, rebuilding his strength and then he will show himself again, more terrible than before."

Thranduil stared into the emerald gloom ahead and a cold shiver skittered down Anna's spine, her hand searching for a hold on the rugged wall beside her.

"How do you know all this?"

"Oh, he has been around long enough to know our worst enemy only too well," Gandalf chimed in from behind both of them, his tone slightly too casual, considering the gravity of the topic, "also we have recently been sharing some interesting conversations, besides it is not altogether unexpected. It was only a matter of time until the Dark One would rise again."

Anna had hoped that Thranduil's victorious return from Erebor had meant the defeat of the enemy, bringing with it the promise of peace, but she now realised that this may have been little more than a skirmish in comparison to what still might lie ahead.

"So, this battle you have been fighting wasn't the end then. You are expecting a war and you think it will come here too."

It wasn't so much a question as a statement and her words hung in the air like an omen of foreboding. She turned to face both Gandalf and Thranduil, the reality of upcoming dangers beyond what she had ever imagined, dawning on her. Nowhere would be safe, not even here.

"Yes, that is what I fear," Thranduil said without looking at her, the tension in his shoulders all too obvious.

Gandalf seemed to take this as his cue to launch into one of his favourite topics.

"Our only chance to endure is that we all stand united, only then can we be strong enough to defeat the Dark Lord. This is not a time for petty rivalries and old grudges, but for—,"

"I know what is expected of me. There is no need to remind me of my duties," Thranduil cut across Gandalf rather gruffly. "My kingdom will be ready, must be ready," he added heavily, glancing towards the decayed wood and the large number of dying plants that awaited whatever miracle the Elvenking might be able to conjure. "I will defend this forest until my last breath and you know this, Mithrandir." He shot Gandalf a haughty glare, but the wizard appeared undaunted by Thranduil's subtle hostility.

"Yes, I do not doubt this, but what if there is need of your forces outside of Mirkwood? What if Lady Galadriel calls for aid? Will you come? Will you stand together not only with Elves, but also Men and even Dwarves, should the need arise?"

The wizard had grown unnaturally tall, tendrils of darkness coiling around his form. Anna's throat went dry and she took a step back until she hit the firmness of Thranduil's chest behind her. He wrapped his arm around her in a protective gesture.

"Let us not cross the bridge till we come to it. Isn't that one of the sayings that you have picked up in the human world?" Thranduil's words might have sounded nonchalant, but the ice in his voice was a clear warning that this was a line Gandalf would do well not to overstep, not here at the very heart of Thranduil's power.

"Yes, it is indeed and of course, you are right," Gandalf muttered into his beard, his appearance shrinking back to his unassuming self, "we must not get ahead of ourselves. All in due time." He gave Anna an apologetic smile. "I did not mean to cause any distress. It is just in my nature to be vigilant and keep out an eye or two for possible dangers."

"Indeed, you are very versed in spotting dangers everywhere," Thranduil said, relaxing his grip on Anna and lowering his head to whisper into her ear, "and when there is absolutely no danger on the horizon, I believe he is fully capable of making something up, just to keep us on our toes."

Anna looked up into Thranduil's face and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. She turned towards Gandalf, her eyes narrowed.

"Really? I thought that respectable wizards would never do such a thing."

"These are completely unfounded allegations. Don't believe a word the Elvenking says, Anna." Gandalf drew his bushy eyebrows together, but the smile shining through his tangled beard took the edge off his indignation. "Never have I made anything up. I only warn when warning is due."

"I am relieved to hear that," Anna said, "but no matter what dangers are there awaiting, I would rather face them being in full possession of my memory."

Gandalf nodded his agreement. "Which is why we are here of course. We can continue our talks of war somewhere more comfortable, like in a room with a squashy armchair and a crackling fire. I have to admit that the chilly air down here does not agree with my ancient bones. My back is starting to feel rather stiff." He rubbed one hand along his lower back as if to emphasise his words.

"I will make sure to include armchairs and a fireplace to the list of commodities to be added to this cavern." A sliver of amusement rang through Thranduil's words as he beckoned to Anna to follow him. "Come with me. There is something else I want to show you."

* * *

The Elvenking headed through the rows of shelves towards the back of the cave and Anna ventured after him, Gandalf following closely behind. Trying to keep up with Thranduil's stride, she barely had time to acknowledge the sheer amount of plants that inhabited each and every wooden shelf they passed. She could only marvel at the great lengths Thranduil was willing to go to ensure the survival of his forest. He was much more than its guardian. He was the beating heart of it and when he had said that he would defend it until his last breath, she knew that he had meant every word of it. Leaving these lands had never been an option for him and now she had seen with her own eyes, felt with her own heart the bond that tied the two of them together.

Thranduil had come to a halt and then Anna noticed it too, a merrily gurgling river winding itself along the back wall. She curiously peered into the near black depths that rushed eagerly from one side of the cavern to the other, disappearing into the darkness ahead.

"Is this the Enchanted River?" she turned towards Thranduil, who stood by her side at the water's edge.

"Yes, it is and as the name suggests, the Enchanted River is no ordinary river, but it carries within its current a powerful spell, woven into the waters by me. Here in this cave is where the enchantment of the river begins and flows upstream, and where its magic is the strongest. It is one more way to ensure the safety of our ever shrinking kingdom, keeping out unwanted strangers and wanderers. Whoever has the misfortune of falling into the river, drinks from it or somehow else touches the black waters, will fall into a deep sleep from which the person will only awake very slowly. Even after that, they will remain in a trance-like state that will not allow them to orient themselves, throwing them off their initial path."

"What happens to those people after the spell wears off?" Several potentially dangerous scenarios began to unfold in Anna's head.

"Some might find their way out, being able to return to where they came from, but not all will succeed in leaving the forest alive. The less lucky ones will fall prey to the spiders, meeting their violent ends at the pincers of these ever hungry beasts."

An icy shiver slithered down Anna's spine at the mere mention of those horrible creatures, the memory of her own encounter still painfully fresh in her mind.

"But let us not speak of such dark and evil things now," Thranduil said when he saw that Anna's face had turned a shade paler. "The magic flowing within these waters can do much more than wipe people's minds blank."

"This is why Brethilwen has told me about the river, because of the powers it holds. She insisted that I should visit the Enchanted River, but she never revealed any more details." Things were starting to take shape in Anna's head. "So you are going to use the same spell you use for the river. But since my memory has already been erased, the spell will bring it back instead?"

"Exactly," Thranduil said and Gandalf beside him nodded his agreement.

"Although there were some adjustments to be done, taking into account the circumstances of your memory loss," Gandalf elaborated, "a spell that has been carefully tailored to the recipient will yield a more satisfying result and will at the same time minimise the risk of a possible failure."

"So I won't be falling into a deep sleep?"

"No, you won't," Thranduil assured her.

"And I get to keep my new memories?"

"Yes, you will," Gandalf said with confidence.

"So, let us do this then," she said, straightening the bodice of her dress, the dark stains and blotches of ink along the lengths of the skirt appearing blacker than ever. "I am ready. Just tell me what I must do."

* * *

"Follow me then." Thranduil turned around on his heels, making his way back through another row of shelves with Anna and Gandalf in tow, leaves of all sizes brushing Anna's arms and some even tickling her head from their lofty heights above.

He led them to a small wooden closet near the entrance to the green grotto. From it Thranduil produced an elegant goblet of finest silver, delicate leaves and flowers garlands snaking themselves around its base and stem. He placed it on top of the closet and when Anna peered inside she saw that it had been filled to the brim with a blood red liquid that undoubtedly resembled the king's favoured wine.

"What? This is it? I drink a cup of this and then my memories will come back?"

"Yes, so it is," Thranduil said, slightly taken aback. "What had you expected?"

"Well, I had expected to see some elaborate display of magic. I thought that I had to perhaps turn on the spot three times going right and then take ten steps towards the left corner of the cave, turn around while saying some words in a strange language and perhaps you and Gandalf would wave your hands and perform some extraordinary ritual—," she broke off, when Thranduil raised his eyebrows in amusement and Gandalf's low chuckle resonated through the cave.

"Obviously I am not very versed in magic. I did not really know what to expect, so I'm sorry if I have just made a complete fool out of myself." She could only hope that the dim lighting in the cave might conceal the blush that had crept to her cheeks.

"This is nothing to be ashamed of." Gandalf gave her a benevolent smile. "It is a common misconception that magic must be flashy in order to be effective. Rather the opposite is true. The most accomplished form of magic is often the one working in complete silence."

"I have to agree with Mithrandir for once," Thranduil said and Gandalf's eyes widened. It made Anna wonder if this was perhaps the first time ever that Thranduil had openly admitted to agreeing with the wizard. "The wine is merely the medium for the spell. It is not the liquid, but the spell itself that is complex," the Elvenking explained, "and the only thing that is required of you is to drink this entire glass of Dorwinion and allow the magic to do its work."

"Well, at least I can't do anything wrong then," Anna said, trying to regain some of her confidence, while the heat on her cheeks gradually receded.

"I have no doubt in your abilities." Thranduil graced her with a smile as he picked up the goblet and pointed towards the entrance of the grotto.

"There is a bench further in the back, where you can sit and make yourself comfortable while you drink." He took her hand to walk towards the grotto.

"One more thing to remember," Thranduil said, stopping with her on the threshold, "your old memories will need time to come back. You will have to be patient and allow your mind to adjust until you can piece everything together again."

Anna nodded, the effort of trying to keep her heart from beating like a drum becoming more and more difficult.

"You have to imagine the enchantment like the gradual opening of a gate. The spell with initiate the opening, but it will take time until all memories can come through. It is not like the breaking of a dam, where everything comes flooding out at once. Also, not all memories will come back in chronological order, so do not be frightened when things still don't seem to make sense at the beginning. Eventually everything will settle and fall in place."

"I will do my best to remember it all," Anna said and then Thranduil led her over the thick rug of moss, her feet sinking into the softness beneath. It was like stepping into an enchanted realm. Ribbons of pale sunlight danced through the air, flowed like golden rivulets across the moss and entwined with the thick green vines along the walls. The rushing of the river could still be heard from the distance and the air was heavy with the sweet scent of fragrant flowers. Thranduil kept his pace slow and without haste, as if he were treading on sacred ground, and for a moment Anna felt the overwhelming desire to lie down on the soft moss that beckoned to her like an evergreen bed. She wanted to fall asleep, forget her past and her future, because nothing of it suddenly seemed to matter anymore.

"You must stay focused, the forest's power is even stronger in here." Thranduil's voice pulled Anna from her near trance-like state.

She had not even realised that she must have stopped and lifted now her eyes from the ground to the Elvenking by her side. Both his silvery hair and robe had taken on an emerald gleam in the greenish light around them. Never had he looked more ethereal, a true king of his forest.

"I—I'm sorry, it's just, this place—," she broke off, when her eyes met Thranduil's. Their icy blue appeared almost sea-green in the twilight and something ancient seemed to stir in their depths. He leaned closer, his lips parting slowly, but before he could say anything, Gandalf had already walked up to them and placed a hand on Anna's shoulder.

"It is quite all right, my dear. This is a place of rather extraordinary powers and it is only normal that you feel overwhelmed." He smiled jovially. "Believe me, you are doing very well."

"Of course she is," Thranduil said tersely as he straightened himself.

One subtle quirk of his eyebrow was enough to make Gandalf retreat his hand rather quickly from Anna's shoulder and for once she thought that Thranduil might have had a point in calling the wizard meddlesome.

* * *

With the goblet in one hand and Anna by his side Thranduil proceeded swiftly to the back of the grotto, towards a half moon shaped bench carved out from the rock, vines and ivy growing thickly around it, a soft layer of moss cushioning the hard surface.

"Will you sit with me?" Anna said, pulling him towards the space beside her, hoping that the closeness of his body would anchor her in the present as she embarked on her journey towards her past.

"Yes, I will." And so he did, close enough for their thighs to touch, the lengths of her dress and his robe mingling on the mossy ground.

Gandalf remained a few steps away, his hands folded behind his back and his blue eyes alert.

"Everything will be just fine," he said with an encouraging nod.

Anna only managed a small smile and then she took the goblet from Thranduil, locking eyes with him. His gaze pierced her with an intensity that sent her pulse galloping. He tipped up her chin and leaned closer until the strands of his hair tickled her face.

" _Lotheg nín_ ," he said softly into their shared space, "whatever your past might be, I want you to know that you are my present and my future, the flower to my frost and the spring to my winter."

Words failed her, a lump forming in her throat, so all she did was nod and then she brought the cup to her lips and closed her eyes. Her mind was a raging tempest of thoughts and images, as she relived the moments that made up her life here in this strange realm. The very first day, when Thranduil had offered her the cup of Dorwinion, followed by the notorious banquet, felt so infinitely far away. Even her completely unreasonable journey across Mirkwood that had nearly gotten her killed, appeared nothing more than a distant speck on the horizon. What was real and true was that she had grown to love the Elvenking more than what she had ever thought possible and that he loved her in return. That was what she would hold on to. Their first kiss and his promise to stay by her side, come what may.

Thranduil had draped an arm around her shoulder and his silent, but reassuring presence gave her the last push needed to embrace the unknown. She took a slow sip, allowing the sweetness of the Dorwinion to fill her chest with a familiar warmth that made her down the rest of the delicious wine without hesitation until the goblet was completely empty. A sudden dizziness rose to her head, spreading rapidly through her veins and into the very tips of her fingers. The cup slid from her hands, her body swaying as if she had danced for hours on end. Without Thranduil's tight grip on her she might have keeled over.

After a long moment she finally opened her eyes.

Besides the echo of her dizziness nothing felt different at first, just like Thranduil had told her, and her eyes gradually focused on his presence beside her. He watched her quietly, his arm still slung around her, a flicker of anxiety in his eyes and his lips pressed tightly together.

"I know your face," she whispered and then she slowly brought her hand to his cheek.

Thranduil leaned into her touch, his lips trembling as the tension melted away.

"And yours is as beautiful as ever," he said, raising a reverent hand to her own face in return, "each of your freckles still waiting to be kissed by me." He drew an arc over her cheekbone with his thumb and his smile made Anna's chest ache with joy. She had not forgotten who he was, nor the taste of his lips on hers, the flames of her love for him burning bright as ever in her heart.

Then slowly, ever so slowly, tiny and isolated fragments of her memories returned, gradually resurfacing like bubbles of air in a glass of water, swirling around her, faces she knew and names that once had meant something to her. Her home and her family, the people she had loved and the place she had lived until —

Everything burned crimson and orange, tongues of searing flames engulfing her, licking along her body, melting her skin, charring her flesh until nothing was left of her, nothing but a spirit, a soul floating in the void.

Anna sat bolt upright, every muscle in her body taut like a bowstring. Her hand had sunk into her lap, the icy chill of a terrible realisation freezing her heart. She looked at Gandalf, who had stepped closer, his face solemn, and then she understood.

"I died, didn't I?"

To be continued…

Sindarin:

 _Eryn Galen_ \- Greenwood the Great

 _Amon Lanc_ \- Naked Hill, a hill in the southern part of Greenwood the Great, former capital of the Woodland Realm of the Silvan Elves under Oropher in the Second Age. After Orpher moved his people further North, Sauron occupied it and it became known as _Dol Guldur._

 _Thurin Galen_ \- Hidden Green

 _Lotheg nín_ \- my little flower

* * *

 **Author's Note:Yes, I'm evil and dropped the bomb and I'm leaving you with another cliffhanger. *runs away cackling madly* But since I'm not completely evil, I can assure you that I'm working on the next chapter already.**

 **Were you surprised by this turn of events? What else might lurk in Anna's past? And what is Gandalf's role in all this? Meddlesome wizard indeed *grumbles*...**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter ^^!**


	38. The Crossroads

**First of all I want to apologise for the long wait. I know I've left you all hanging with this terrible cliffhanger about Anna's death, but here it is finally, the new chapter with some long awaited answers.**

 **A BIG thank you to the lovely people who have left reviews on the preceding chapter: Honoria Granger, cosmiccutiee, Archangel of Fire 777, Guest, Cleo Winchester, Silent Bellios, DeLacus, Amalie Petersen, Averlovi, Raider-K, Guest, Wistari, RegencyGirl17, sapphire-deity, d'elfe and thrndlwood.**

 **Onwards then to the next chapter it is!**

* * *

 _Chapter 37 - The Crossroads_

 _Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;_

 _I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night._

(Sarah Williams, The Old Astronomer)

"Yes, you did," said Gandalf.

Anna had gone completely still, the hammering of her own heartbeat the only indication that she was not dead right now.

"What is the meaning of this?" Thranduil demanded, an undercurrent of menace in his voice. "How can Anna be dead when she is sitting beside me quite alive?" He reached out for her hand as if he needed to reassure himself of his own words. "If this is another one of your obscure machinations, I demand that you explain yourself at once. This is not a time to play games, Mithrandir!"

"This isn't a game," Anna said, when she had finally regained her voice. "There was a fire and I—" she broke off.

"A fire?" Thranduil's voice was hollow and even without looking at his face she could sense that, for the blink of an eye, the glamour hiding his scar was flickering dangerously.

"Yes."

"But where was this fire? How did this happen?"

"I'm trying to remember, but the pieces are just slowly coming together."

"Of course, your memories might need more time to settle in," Thranduil said, as if he had to remind himself of being patient when it came to learning about her past. His closeness was the only thing grounding Anna to a present that slipped away from her at a frightening pace. She kept her eyes on the ground before her, as the images finally slid in place.

"There was a small forest close to where I used to live. I loved taking walks there, because it was so peaceful and quiet. I remember that there was a massive and ancient oak in its centre. That was my favourite spot to sit and work. I used to write children's books and the best ideas would come to me there." A small smile played around her mouth, but died away again as quickly as it came. "That day I was on my way to visit a friend who used to live just beyond the forest. The weather was perfect, not a single cloud in sight, so I decided to go and see my tree. The roots fanned out so wide they appeared like gnarled snakes on the forest floor, so I made myself comfortable between them. I leaned against the tree trunk and pulled out my notebook to scribble down an idea, when the tree shook with a sudden tremor." The thought alone sent a shiver through her body.

"The— the leaves above me rustled and I looked up, but there was no wind. It was as if they were talking to each other, whispering something in a language I couldn't understand." Anna shook her head, trying to find the right words. "If I wouldn't have known it any better, I would have said that the tree was afraid, sensing danger creeping up on it. It was a warning, but I didn't understand it. Something felt suddenly very wrong. It was like a strange power had appeared out of nowhere, siphoning off all life from around me."

She dug her fingers into the moss covering the bench, searching for a hold in the swirling sea of her memories.

"I was being pushed against the tree and the breath was knocked from my lungs. I tried to free myself and get up, but whatever was holding me down, was too strong for me. I thought I was going mad or imagining things because I couldn't see anyone around. Panic crept through me and I wanted to scream for help, but no words came out." Her eyes went to Thranduil, who watched her wordlessly, his flawless composure barely holding in the face of her harrowing revelations.

"The tree shook and trembled and I could feel the knobs of the bark pressing into my back. The skies turned as black as night, obscuring everything around me, and then a lightning cleaved through it like a blade cutting through a veil. It struck the tree with a tremendous force. I could even feel it ripping through every fibre of my body. The rumble that followed was deafening. In an instant the tree burst into flames, the fire eating through the leaves and wood as if they were paper. One moment everything was black and then suddenly there was so much brightness it blinded me and the heat rolled down relentlessly towards me. Everything happened so fast I could barely understand what was going on. I knew I would never make it out alive, not unless a miracle would come. I learned then that miracles do not exist."

A silent sob escaped Anna, her insides clenching into a tight knot. Tears burned in her eyes. "I wasn't afraid of death, but I was so scared of dying." She added in a choked voice, "I didn't want to die alone, not like that."

"I'm sorry you had to go through this," Thranduil said quietly beside her. "Words are not enough to describe such pain and agony."

When she looked up into his face his scar had broken through the faltering glamour, a reminder of his own horrible fight against the flames. "Fire has no mercy," he said. "It is greedy and takes what it wants and consumes everything in its wake like a relentless beast."

Anna bit her lower lip trying to keep the tears from falling.

"I couldn't do anything. I couldn't fight or run away. It was so unbearably hot, my body was literally melting away, my skin blistering; just waves upon waves of scorching heat bathing everything in orange and crimson. The pain was agonising. It was like being sliced apart by burning blades and having red-hot spears driven through every part of my body. " She paused, her throat clogging up as she fought a sudden surge of nausea. "I yelled and cried until my throat was hoarse and I had nothing more left in me. The smell of burned flesh stung my nose and my eyes were blinded by the smoke that rapidly filled my lungs. I couldn't breathe anymore and I began to lose consciousness. I drifted away while the fire consumed the rest of me. Then suddenly everything was completely still and there was only darkness and no more pain. It was all gone from one instant to another."

Thranduil swallowed audibly beside her.

"No one deserves to die such an awful death," he said and then his voice turned sombre, "this should never have happened. How was this even possible? This sounds like a work of dark magic, like someone purposefully attacked the tree."

"A valid assumption," Gandalf said, joining the conversation for the first time. He paced with his hands crossed behind his back in front of Anna and Thranduil. "Which is why I am quite certain of the origin of said attacker. When you fought the dragon Angoroth at Gundabad it was not the only blow Sauron thought to deal you."

"What does this have to do with Anna and the tree?" Thranduil retorted impatiently.

"It has everything to do with it." Gandalf stopped his pacing and hooked his thumbs into his belt. "As you must be well aware of, there was a lightning striking the ancient oak in Mirkwood, the portal tree, just right after the dragon nearly burned you whole."

"Yes, there is no need to remind me of these horrid moments." Thranduil tensed noticeably beside Anna.

"Oh, but there is, because only then the connection becomes apparent. The lightning opened a rift in time, so when it struck the tree, it did so not only at that moment, but also at another instant in time, a moment separated by thousands of years, but suddenly connected by a singular act of dark magic."

"So are you saying that I might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Anna wiped away a solitary tear with the back of her hand.

Gandalf bobbed his head sideways. "The answer to this is both yes and no. Had you not been there then you surely wouldn't have died, but had you not been there, then you would have never found your way here either. By doing what he did, Sauron unintentionally created a way for his evil deed to be undone."

For a moment Thranduil appeared awe-struck as he processed the wizard's revelations and the confusion was evident on his face. "That still does not explain how Anna got here," Thranduil said, having quickly regained his poise. "People are not normally dead when they pass through the portal tree."

"You are right. It was not the usual way, but this is where I come in," Gandalf tilted his head sideways. "I found her at the Crossroads."

"The Crossroads?" Thranduil repeated, his eyes darting from the wizard to Anna. She nodded briefly to confirm that Gandalf was speaking the truth.

"A place between the worlds, created by Eru and guarded by the Istari," Gandalf elaborated. "It is a place that is both nowhere and everywhere at once and only few people ever find how to get there."

"Why is it that I have never heard of this place?"

"You are a wise Elvenking and have walked this earth for many millennia, but that does not mean that there aren't places and things that exist outside of your knowledge. The universe is full of surprises and mysteries. Even I find myself marvelling at them time and again."

Anna threw Thranduil a sideways glance. He pushed his chin forward, the crease on his forehead deepening, but for once he seemed to actually swallow back the smart retort he surely had prepared.

"Very well," he said, "then let us assume that such a place actually does exist, wherever it might be, that still leaves the question of Anna dying and being now obviously alive unanswered."

"It is easier to comprehend if you allow me to show you," Gandalf said and then with a flick of his wrist he conjured a vision out of thin air. A dark and empty space appeared, the outlines of two people walking slowly towards the foreground until it became apparent who they were. An elderly man and a young woman now sat down on the ground, facing each other. It might have looked like a casual encounter between them, had it not been for the complete barren surroundings and the empty ground. Several pathways appeared to be leading into the darkness. Only two of them were slightly more illuminated as if they had been highlighted on purpose.

* * *

 _"I thought I died? Why am I here? Is this heaven?" The questions tumbled from Anna's mouth. There was a darkness around both of them, not a menacing one, but rather one that was comforting like a warming blanket._

 _"You did die indeed, but you have yet to make your final journey. And no, this is not heaven, but you are at the Crossroads from where many paths lead in different directions, although not all pathways are open for everyone. As you can see there are two for you to choose." He waved with his hand in the direction of the pathways._

 _Anna followed the motion of his hands and nodded slowly, then her eyes went back to him._

 _"And who are you? Are you God?"_

 _The elderly man facing her leaned closer and smiled._

 _"No, I am not God. My name is Gandalf, although I go by many names as I have travelled many roads in the long years of my life. I am one of the guardians of this place and today it is my duty to offer you guidance and help as to which path you will want to choose."_

 _"Am I not supposed to just, I don't know, stay dead? I thought death was the end of it all."_

 _"Who told you that? It seems this is a common misconception among humans. Death is not necessarily the end of all things, nor is it always the only choice."_

 _"So I get to choose between going back to my life and death?"_

 _"I am afraid it is not as simple as that. There is no way back to where you came from, you can only choose to go on different paths from here."_

 _"But I don't understand. Why do I get to choose?"_

 _"Sometimes people are chosen for reasons that are not always evident at first, but they are never chosen at random. You have been brought here to be offered a task."_

 _"A task?"_

 _For a moment Gandalf's eyes focussed on something far away, and his voice seemed to come from a great distance._

 _"A long time ago a terrible tragedy occurred, a force of evil so strong it split apart the soul of someone, someone who has been now wandering for ages, broken, but not yet defeated, still hoping for a cure to be whole again. He is not aware that he is missing a part of his soul, but he is slowly growing weaker and if no help comes, he will soon fade."_

 _"What do you mean by fade? You mean he will die? And who is this person?"_

 _"No, he will not die, as we are not speaking of a human. He is an Elf, a rather ancient being going by human standards, and his world stands at the brink of another war and with it eternal destruction. If he does not regain his strength, I am afraid, then all will fall into darkness."_

 _"An Elf? But how can I help? I don't understand. I am only a human, not a wizard and I do not possess any powers."_

 _"Do not underestimate yourself. You are compassionate and kind and there is love in your heart. That is all it takes." He reached out for Anna's hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "You carry within you the ability to save another soul, but only you can decide if you are willing to make use of your ability."_

 _Anna looked at the wizard slightly baffled. "But what exactly am I supposed to do? I still don't understand. How do I find this person, this Elf?"_

 _"The only thing you have to do, should you agree to this task, is follow your heart. You will know when you have found him. There are no instructions, and there is only one rule. Once you have made your choice, there is no way back. So make sure to choose wisely."_

 _Anna's eyes searched her surroundings, but the near darkness made it difficult to discern anything._

 _"Where does the other path take me?"_

 _"That I cannot tell you. It is different for everyone who travels that road. It is a place that is known by many names, a place where souls go to rest at the end of their lives."_

 _"So you mean to tell me that I can either keep on going to an unknown resting place or I can choose to agree to this task and go to another unknown place in hope of healing a broken soul?"_

 _"Exactly, you can either follow this road," he gestured with his hand towards the path, the length of it obscured by dense greyish mist, "or accept this task, which will lead you to a new life."_

 _Anna stared at the path that lay before her, anxiety creeping up on her at the sight of its pitch black darkness. "What if I don't know what to do? What if I fail?"_

 _"You will not. I have full trust in your abilities."_

 _"You seem to have a lot more confidence in me than what I have."_

 _Gandalf gave her a brilliant smile._

 _"What happens if I succeed?"_

 _Gandalf's face turned serious and he folded his hands in front of his lap. "That only Eru knows and it is in his wisdom that we must put our faith. I am afraid that is all I can tell you."_

 _Anna nodded slowly and took a deep breath. Everything around them lay in a twilight that might be dusk or dawn or none of both. Besides the outline of the two pathways and Gandalf by her side there was nothing and no one. Her heart hammered in her chest, despite the fact that she should not even have a beating heart anymore._

 _"I know you still have doubts, Anna, but you are the one meant for this task. And he is running out of time and his world with him."_

 _"No pressure then, right?" she said, a smile creeping on her face as if in defiance of the dangers that lay ahead._

 _"No, none at all," Gandalf said, his answering smile shining through his tangled beard._

 _She rose from her place on the ground and took one step towards the blackness engulfing the pathway that awaited her with a task that sounded completely and utterly surreal, but who was she to judge? By all laws of logic she should be dead and not standing here talking to a wizard, so perhaps it was time to lay her doubts aside and simply accept what had been offered to her. She had nothing to lose except death, and to the best of her knowledge this was not something desirable._

 _She lifted her hand and extended it towards the darkness ahead. It went through and disappeared from sight, as if devoured by an endless night._

 _"I will choose this path and do my best to be worthy of the trust that has been placed in me, but I have one more question." She turned around to face Gandalf, who had risen to stand behind her. "Has everything here been happening inside my head or is this real?"_

 _The wizard opened his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Of course it is happening in your head, Anna, but why should that mean that it is not real?"_

 _"What a very wizard way to answer," she said. There was only one more question for her to ask. "Will I see you again?"_

 _Gandalf's eyes crinkled with a smile. "When the time is right, we shall meet again, but for now it is farewell."_

* * *

The vision began to blur at the edges and soon the entire image dissolved into a thin mist until nothing at all remained. Gandalf turned towards Anna and said, "I watched you go and have been looking forward to meeting you again ever since."

Anna looked up at the wizard and then at Thranduil by her side, who had observed the entire vision without uttering a single word. Even now he seemed to struggle for what to say.

"This is quite unbelievable," he began, "if Anna wouldn't be sitting here right beside me, I would be led to think that all this was just a cleverly engineered illusion by you, Mithrandir." He turned to face her, not waiting for an answer from the wizard. His eyes searched hers instead.

"How—I don't understand?"

"I plunged into a sea of stars," she said, gazing into the depths of his eyes, "and then I found you, a small star, but the most brilliant of them all, flickering like a glittering jewel, glowing so brightly that it nearly drowned out the light of all others around it. It led my heart through the endless starlit ocean like a beacon until I stood right before it, a tiny but perfect incandescent speck of light."

"Grief and sorrow poured from it towards me, a tidal wave of despair so profound that it threatened to shatter my own spirit. But I came closer still. The star then blinked frantically, as if it feared that its light might fade at any moment. And suddenly it faltered, growing dimmer and dimmer like dying embers of a fire. I reached out with my hand to pluck it before the darkness would swallow it whole and drown its light forever. The instant my finger touched it, it flared up again and a flash of lightning zoomed through me, reaching into me, and then a warm and golden light settled in every fibre of my being. At that very instant darkness fell around me. I do not remember anything else until the moment I woke up under that tree."

A heavy silence blanketed the grotto and for a long while no one spoke until finally Anna took one of Thranduil's hands to place it on her chest, right over her thundering heart. "I believe I have something that belongs to you."

He in turn brought one of her hands to his own heart.

"I believe you do," he said softly.

To be continued...

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this (slightly shorter) chapter with some crucial revelations about Anna's past. The Potterheads among you might have also spotted a tiny homage of mine to the 'Deathly Hallows'.**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter and thank you in advance for your patience. My main focus lies now on my original works, so I cannot promise when the inspiration for this story will strike again.**


	39. To Save a Soul

**Surprise! A new chapter is out! I've been on a writing spree with TSotF and this is the result of a writing marathon in the last days.**

 **A BIG thank you as always to all those lovely people who have left reviews on the previous chapter: xKaminix, Guest, Anndi, Guest, Guest, RubberDuckiez, Honoria Granger, Minigrem2, thrndlwood, RegencyGirl17, Amalie Petersen!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter it is!**

* * *

 _Chapter 38 - To Save a Soul_

"You came here to save my soul," he said. It was not so much a question as it was a statement. Suddenly his chest seemed too constricted and breathing became increasingly difficult. Could it all be true? Was there indeed hope for him to heal? And was this woman in front of him the one to make him whole again? His scar had already broken through the glamour and if he wasn't careful, the meticulously constructed dam around his heart might collapse anytime under the oncoming flood of emotions.

"I was searching for a broken soul, but found a loving heart instead," Anna said.

The steady beating of her heart against the palm of his hand was the most beautiful gift the Valar had given him. With his thumb he wiped away a solitary tear that clung to her lower lashes, while what he really wanted to do was pull her close and kiss her to make sure all this was not just a cruel trick his mind was playing on him.

"For centuries I have been waiting, listening to the song of the trees that whispered of someone coming from the other side to bring unrest and love, someone unlikely and altogether unexpected. I could not make any sense of these words until I looked into your eyes that day under the tree and it was like gazing into a mirror. I know now that what I saw was that piece of my soul you are carrying. I am eternally grateful for the choice you made, for coming here and giving me hope when I had none left."

"Gandalf advised me to follow my heart, and so I did. When I awoke under that tree and I first saw you, I was terrified. Y—you were like nothing I had ever seen before, like someone out of a fairytale. I was trying to make sense of everything, but I couldn't think straight anymore. Apparently death isn't too kind when it comes to messing with one's mind. But then you looked at me and the grief and sorrow in your eyes stirred up something inside me. Perhaps it was that piece of your soul responding, or perhaps it suddenly reminded me of what I had left behind when I died."

Shadows darkened the bright green of her eyes, and her face suddenly paled.

"Can you remember what you left behind?" He needed to know, even though it might be something he didn't want to hear. It would be foolish of him to assume that there hadn't been anyone in her life before him. She was a grown woman after all, and a beautiful one too.

"I don't think you want to know," she said, avoiding his gaze. "And it doesn't matter now. I am dead in my old world. It means nothing." The trembling in her lower lip was proof enough that she did not believe her own words.

"I want to know," he said. "I told you about my past. I think it is only fair that I should know about yours too, even though you have left it behind. It still means something to you and therefore also to me."

Anna's shoulders sagged, as if the weight of her past was crushing her.

"Was there someone you loved?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice.

"Tell me about him," he said, even though it pained him to hear her speak about another man.

"I don't think this is a good idea," she said, biting her lower lip.

"He is part of your life as much as Calithiel is part of my own. And I stand by my word. I am here for you and nothing from your past will change that." The assurance in his words seemed to sway her and she finally nodded her agreement.

"He was a…gardener and it was because of him that we moved to a house close to the forest. He was…" she paused, as if she had to search her mind for the next piece of the puzzle. "His name was Thomas and he loved plants, especially trees and he had the wildest theories about them."

"What theories?" Thranduil asked, now curious.

"I cannot remember much of them, but he used to say that the oldest trees were the guardians of the forests and he insisted that they shared secret connections with each other."

"He seems to have been a wise man."

"I didn't think much of his ideas, considered them strange legends at best or simply stories he had made up to entertain me." Her eyes were lost in a far away place. "But I eventually found myself wandering more often into the forest, the ancient oak quickly becoming my favourite spot. When Matilda was little, the sounds of the forest seemed to always calm her when she was restless."

The smile that had dawned on her face died away as quickly as it had appeared. Her breathing became shallow and Thranduil could sense her fighting back tears.

"Was Matilda your daughter?" A heaviness settled in his chest at the terrible truth this question implied.

A silent nod was Anna's only answer. She pressed her lips together, her voice a choked whisper. The painful mixture of love and grief in her eyes tore at his own heart.

"She was…she was my everything. I never thought it would be possible to love someone so fiercely."

At first Anna hesitated, but then suddenly the words poured out, as if a dam had broken inside her.

"She had the most beautiful green eyes and always used to break into fits of giggling when we tickled her. She would even laugh at her own hiccups. Matilda was the reason I started writing children's books. She loved my bedtime stories and kept asking for more, even made up her own that I began to write down. She was so proud when she had managed to scribble down some jumbled words on a paper. I kept that paper in my notebook, carrying it with me wherever I went. The fire must have burned it too." Anna buried her face in her hands. "I—I miss them so much," she said, breaking into silent sobs.

"Of course you do," he said, fighting against the rising feeling of helplessness. "They were your family and they still live on in your heart, even if you are not with them anymore."

"I abandoned them. I died and left them alone. I left my daughter alone." Panic rose in her voice. "She can't sleep without her bedtime story and…and I sing for her every night, and then she needs me to tuck her into bed. She won't understand why I'm not there for her anymore. She had just turned five the day before I—"

Anna frantically scanned the grotto, as if she could spot her daughter hiding somewhere in the emerald gloom. It became increasingly difficult for Thranduil to keep his calm, but he could not let his composure slip, not when she needed him to be her tower of strength as she braved the tumultuous ocean of her memories.

"Fathers can raise children too," he said, his own age old grief bubbling dangerously close to the surface, "even if it is difficult to fill the void when the mother is gone. You must trust that his love for her will guide him on the right path. It is natural for you to feel grief and even guilt, but you cannot allow yourself to be overcome by it. You have to let go, otherwise it will tear you apart."

"Let go? I'm just starting to remember everything right now," she said, a layer of anger beneath her pain. "I cannot just simply forget everything, even though I wish I could. It is not as easy as that."

Gandalf nodded gravely, joining the conversation for the first time since Anna's revelations. "You will have to accept that there is no way to change your past. When someone dies the ones that are left behind will undoubtedly suffer, but it is for them to find their own way to healing, not you. You cannot undo your death and you do yourself no good in taking the blame for their grief."

"But my daughter! She is still too small to understand why I am not coming back. How can I not blame myself for abandoning my child?"

"You did not abandon her, you died, which is not something you consciously chose to do," Gandalf retorted. "You did not walk into the fire on purpose."

"It doesn't matter. It is the same to her. I'm not there for her anymore."

"Your daughter might not understand it now, but rest assured that children do have an understanding of death and she will not blame you for leaving her. She will miss you, that much is certain, and your absence will leave a hole in her heart, but this is something that time, and love, will heal. She might never be the same and no one will ever be able to replace you as her mother, but that does not mean that she has to spend the rest of her life in sadness. There is a time for grief, but there will come a time for joy and happiness. And the same goes for you." He looked at her from under his bushy eyebrows.

"But how can I deserve happiness when I know that the ones I left behind are suffering?"

She hung her head low, covering her face with her hands.

Thranduil couldn't watch any longer as she stubbornly tormented herself with self accusations, so he took her by the shoulders to turn her towards him, his grip gentle but determined.

"Please look at me," he said, pulling her hands away from her face. They were clammy and trembling. She slowly raised her tear-stained eyes to his. He needed to catch her before she fell into the dark pit of grief and guilt.

"Their happiness is not in your hands anymore, but your own is, as is mine. By coming here you chose to give me another chance at finding love. Don't push away what can bring you joy too. I understand that it will take time and I am willing to be patient. All I'm asking is that you allow me to walk this path with you."

Anna's gaze was empty, as if all emotion had been drained from her.

"I—I think I need to rest. I don't feel so good." Her hands were like icicles as he rubbed them between his own.

"Of course," he said, rising from his seat and pulling her up with him, "I will walk you to your room and then you must rest. All this has been emotionally and physically exhausting for you. Do you wish for me to stay with you?"

He was hoping for her to say yes, but he knew that she might need time to regain her balance on her own, before she was ready to accept him by her side once more.

Anna shook her head. "I would rather be alone."

"I understand," he said, silencing the voice inside his heart that whispered to keep her close. "I will make sure that you will not be disturbed."

Together they left the grotto, Gandalf following behind. It seemed to Thranduil that the wizard was unusually quiet, as if for once he had run out of wise words.

* * *

Thranduil had accompanied Anna to her room and had given her the space and time she had claimed she needed, promising her that he would come back to see her after his meeting with Tauriel. But now that she was indeed alone, she found herself pacing her room like a caged animal, her thoughts a whirlwind and the uneasy feeling in her gut not allowing her to find any rest. Aradan trailed along behind her, tugging at the hem of her dress every once in a while in an attempt to catch her attention, but she ignored the elk calf, a dark cloud of despair her stubborn companion.

After a few fruitless attempts to distract herself by reading a book, she finally decided to sit down at her desk to pour all her sorrows into her blue book. Perhaps writing down everything would make it easier for her to accept her fate. She pulled the book towards her and dipped the quill into the ink-pot when there was a soft knock at the door.

For a moment she considered ignoring it, but after two more knocks and Aradan wagging his tail excitedly, she gave in and dropped the quill.

"Fine," she muttered. "And don't look at me like that," she scolded Aradan who had angled his head as if he were expecting a treat from her.

She rose from her seat, trying to put on a face of calm and called, "Come in."

The heavy door opened and Gandalf stepped into the room, an apologetic smile on his face.

"I am very sorry to disturb you at such an unfitting moment, but there is something of importance that I must discuss with you."

"Can it not wait? I would rather be alone now."

"I am afraid that it cannot wait. The sooner you know about it, the better."

"This doesn't sound very reassuring," she said. "Is there anything else about my past that I am still missing?"

"No, it does not have anything to do with your past, but rather with your future."

"My future?" she said wearily.

"I think it might be better if we would both sit down." Gandalf threw a suggestive glance at the table.

"Is it that bad?" Now she was really beginning to worry.

"Oh, I see you still have of this delightful tea," he said, eyeing the steaming teapot on her table and effectively avoiding her question.

"Yes, I do," she said, playing along for the time being. "Would you like some?"

"If you are so kind as to offer an old wizard a nice cup of tea, I will definitely not say no." With those words he sat down and Anna poured for both of them a cup of tea.

"Very well, what is it then that you need to speak to me?" she said, taking a seat opposite Gandalf, Aradan curling around her feet.

Gandalf took a long sip from his teacup and placed it carefully back on the table before him. He then folded his hands and leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her face.

"You came here to save a broken soul, but are you willing to do whatever it takes to heal Thranduil's soul?"

"Yes, of course I am. Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?"

"No, you haven't. But I still need to know if you are prepared to put his life before your own, if it came to it?"

"I'm not sure I follow. What exactly is it that you are asking of me?"

Anna bit the inside of her mouth and reached for her own teacup. This did not look like it was going to be a pleasant conversation, so she might as well enjoy a sip of tea herself.

"Forgive me if I seem to go far afield, but there are some things I want you to be aware of. Am I correct to assume that in the course of your stay in Mirkwood you have had time to study the laws and customs of the Eldar? Judging by the amount of books I see in your room you appear to be an avid reader."

"Yes, I have, but I have to admit that many things still seem strange and foreign to me."

"That is only natural, considering that you were not born in these lands and have only been here for a few months. And while Elves and Men are quite alike in many ways, there are some things that set them apart, the customs of marriage being one of them."

"Marriage? I— I don't think that Thranduil is ready to propose to me. I would never dare to assume that I could ever officially take the place as his wife."

"I beg to differ. Thranduil has made it very clear that he loves you and for the Elves love is sacred. When they give their heart to someone it involves more than just their minds agreeing to marriage or their bodies feeling desire. It is their very souls that form a bond that ties them together, entwines their very essences."

Heat rose to Anna's cheeks. It was slightly awkward hearing the wizard speak about such an intimate topic. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because I want you to know what you will be facing should you agree to marry Thranduil."

Now she was seriously blushing, and it was definitely not caused by the hot tea.

"I know how these things work, even though I might not have thousands of years of experience to look back at." This was beginning to take a rather uncomfortable turn.

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Of course you do. I never meant to assume anything. I just wanted to point out that the consummation of an elven marriage involves invoking a sacred bond where both souls essentially become one, or rather two sides of a single entity. What I am trying to say is that since there is a part of Thranduil's soul attached to your own, the process of bonding might carry certain risks for you."

"Risks?" she repeated after the wizard. Hadn't she had her fair share of possible risks already? Wasn't it enough that she had died and come here to fulfil a task she had not asked for? Why had there to be another obstacle on the way?

"When your own soul and his come together it could be that, when the piece latched to your soul breaks loose, it tears apart your own soul."

Anna stared at him with wide eyes. "What exactly do you mean by this?"

"It means that your own soul might cease to exist and so would you."

"You are making this up," she said. A gaping black hole opened in her stomach. He could not possibly mean what he was saying.

"I am afraid I am not. I am not saying that this will happen, as the final outcome lies in Eru's hands. I just want you to be prepared."

"Prepared? Isn't it a bit late for this type of warning? Why didn't you tell me about this before, when we were at the Crossroads?"

"Would you have come here and accepted this task if you would have known about this eventuality?"

"No, possibly not," she admitted, feeling utterly lost and defeated. "So you hid this from me to lure me here?"

"I did not hide it from you. I just did not want to scare you."

She said nothing as she began to see the wizard in a different light. He was a cunning puppeteer, that much was for sure.

"There is still another detail. Thranduil is not aware of this and he cannot know, ever, because he surely will refuse to do anything that would put your life at risk."

It slowly dawned on her what Gandalf was getting at.

"So, I'm not supposed to let him know that the very thing that will make his soul whole again, might kill me?"

"Exactly, it is vital for Thranduil that he regains his strength and he can only do so if his soul is complete, because if it remains broken, then not only he, but also this world and everyone inhabiting it, could fall victim to the darkness. The balance of good and evil will be off and Middle-earth will be in grave peril. It will be an easy feat for Sauron to rise to power. The lives of many could be lost, elves and men, dwarves and hobbits."

"So it is my life against many? Is this what this is all about?" There it was, the bitter truth.

"If you want to put it in such simple words, yes." For a moment Gandalf evaded her gaze, as if he was feeling sorry for her.

"Offering me this choice, bringing me here, was all just for the greater good? I was always just the means to an end?"

Tears burned in the back of her eyes, but she did not allow them to fall. She would not show weakness. She should have known earlier that a great wizard like Gandalf could not possibly be concerned with the happiness of a single person, but had ulterior motives when weaving his grand schemes. What was one life lost in comparison to many saved?

"So I am here to save the world, but not for me?" Once again, her life had been pulled from beneath her feet. She should be getting used to this by now. There was no happy ending for her, not in her old world and not in this one.

"Saving lives is an honourable thing to do."

"Of course it is. Forgive me if I'm not overjoyed at the prospect of facing an honourable death, but at least dying in the arms of the one I love is a better way to go than being burned alive."

Her biting sarcasm was the only way she could keep herself from falling apart right in front of the wizard. She briskly rose from her seat and Gandalf followed suit.

"I think it's time for you to go," she said, holding on to the table for support. Her knees wobbled dangerously as a wave of cold sweat washed over her back.

"You are right, I should be going" he said, tilting his head sideways, "and please forgive me for not having been honest with you. You are a wonderful person and you deserve only the best. I am truly sorry it had to come to this."

He turned to leave, taking her chance at happiness with him.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have enjoyed this latest chapter. Anna came to save Thranduil's soul, but it seems that saving him will claim her own life in the end...**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter and thank you in advance for your patience and your continued support. I really appreciate it.**


	40. Defeated

**I'm still on a writing spree and the words just keep pouring out as this story finally heads towards the conclusion of its main story arc. I'm really excited and I hope you are too.**

 **A BIG thank you as always to all those lovely people who have left reviews on the previous chapter: RegencyGirl17, thrndlwood, Honoria Granger, Mingrem2, d'elfe, Guest, LadyAmazon, Amalie Petersen, RubberDuckiez and xKaminix.**

 **Onwards to the next chapter it is! Keep your tissues ready...**

* * *

 _Chapter 39 - Defeated_

 _How our bodies, born to heal_

 _Become so prone to die?_

(Sleeping At Last: Mars)

Anna stared at the door through which the wizard had left, her hands reaching for the table behind her to give her balance when her world was falling apart. Her head was spinning and her legs were like jelly. This couldn't be happening. It had to be a bad dream, a nightmare. As if realising she had died and recovering her past hadn't been jarring enough, it turned out that she had been a pawn in Gandalf's games of political intrigue all along. Who was to know that such an unassuming elderly fellow was nothing but a cold and heartless engineer, the survival of Middle-earth his main concern? Of course, in the grand scheme of things the life of one single human didn't matter, especially not when that person had literally died already. She shouldn't even have gotten her hopes up to avoid such bitter disappointment.

Anger welled up inside her and she gripped her teacup and smashed it against the wall where it shattered with a satisfying crunch, black rivulets of tea trickling down and forming a small puddle on the floor. Aradan looked up at her, and she could have sworn that he was eyeing her with nothing short of a reproachful glare.

"What? Can't I be upset now? This whole life here," she waved her arms around the room, "it's not for me. It never has been. I've just allowed myself to be tricked into actually believing that I might have a place here."

Aradan angled his head and wagged his stubby tail.

"Of course, you wouldn't understand. How could you? You are a creature of Mirkwood, born in the forest." She scratched him behind his ears, and he looked at her wide-eyed. "You will have to promise me to be a good boy and behave yourself when I'm gone, or else Thranduil will exile you from the palace without batting an eyelid."

The sudden image of Thranduil alone, his hopes of finding love shattered into a million pieces, brought tears to her eyes. As if sacrificing her own life wasn't bad enough, what this trickery meant for the broken Elvenking further fuelled her anger at Gandalf. Like her, Thranduil had been fed half-truths by the cunning wizard. He was probably under the impression that Gandalf had both their personal happiness at heart, when in truth everything was just a clever charade.

She needed to make a plan on how to proceed. She couldn't let Thranduil know about what Gandalf had told her, that much was clear. He needed his soul to be whole again and she would face whatever risk would await her, but she wanted to at least leave something behind for him, in case things went awry. Perhaps she would write him a letter that would explain everything and where she would beg his forgiveness for having kept one final secret from him.

She strode towards her writing desk, ignoring the pounding in her head that had joined the waves of cold sweat crawling over her skin. Her body was telling her that she faced exhaustion, and that she should better rest, but first she needed to get those words on paper. She sat down and massaged her temples with her fingers, watching absentmindedly as Aradan stalked to the pool. He lapped eagerly at the water, splashing around with an innocent enthusiasm that made her smile despite her dreary mood. She pulled out a parchment from the drawer and placed it in front of her, flattening it with her hand, when a sudden sharp pain lanced through her body, blurring her vision. She held on to the edge of the desk, trying to focus on the parchment in front of her, but the dull throbbing that spread from her lower back made it difficult to keep her attention on anything but the pain that felt too familiar.

This didn't feel like a side effect of the memory spell, nor her body being exhausted, no, this was something else, something she had readily pushed aside, hoping for it to never return. But there it was, unbidden and back with a vengeance. Memories of clicking pincers, black beady eyes and a fever that had nearly consumed her, came back to her. This was going to be bad.

The room was spinning around her as another wave of pain struck her like lightning. Brethilwen's warning words rang in her mind. The phial, she needed to take the antidote before the pain would render her unable to move. Anna desperately fumbled for the phial, but her fingers would not obey her head's command, as if the poison had coated every fibre of her body like tar, turning all her movements sluggish. With a groan she rose from her seat to get better access to her pockets, but if she stood upright the pain only sped at an even faster rate through her body.

Perhaps she could drag herself to Thranduil's chambers, if she walked slow enough. She took a few shaky steps, holding on to the shelf beside her, but her room was too wide and the concealed door still too far away. Her hands were clammy, her throat constricted and even only lifting her fingers made needles prick her skin.

"No, no," she mumbled to herself, trying to keep a clear head, but she was fighting a lost battle. At this rate she would never make it to his chambers. The breath was knocked from her lungs by another stab shooting right up her spine.

She collapsed on the floor, still halfway from the door, curling up in a fetal position to be able to bear the vicious attacks that spread from her lower back. The elk calf trotted to her side, poking her with his muzzle. "Aradan, you must go… and get help," she said, her voice raspy. Even opening her mouth and formulating words caused her pain. Instead of following her orders, Aradan lied down beside her and began licking her face.

"Go," she murmured, "p—please, tell the king. Thranduil, you must go to him."

This was it then. If she died here and now, she would have failed Thranduil, because how would she ever be able to heal his soul, if the spider's venom consumed her?

She held her breath when a new assault of pain built up. It was excruciating. Her fingers searched once more for the phial in her pocket, but there were too many layers of cloth to find the tiny glass container. It was useless. She tried to raise herself on all fours to crawl towards the door, but her muscles were on fire and hot spears pierced her back. She slumped back to the floor, the salty taste of tears mixing with the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. A sudden surge of nausea hit her and she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor beside her. She drew a rattling breath, her eyes lingering on the tapestry with the majestic white stag, king and protector of the forest.

"Help," she mouthed and then she drifted out of consciousness.

* * *

It was with great reluctance that Thranduil had left Anna behind in her room. There was an insistent whisper of worry he couldn't quite silence, no matter how much he sought to convince himself that he was being foolish. But alas, he had kingly duties that needed his attention. Perhaps these would distract him from all the things he wanted to do with Anna, which included, but were not limited to taking her to his bed. He scolded himself for his improper thoughts and decided to focus on the task at hand, not without having first served himself a generous amount of his vintage Dorwinion, and sinking into his favourite chair in front of the mantlepiece. He tore his eyes away from the crackling fire beside him, the hungry flames licking at the darkened logs reminding him of Anna's violent death.

Swirling the blood red liquid in his glass, he exhaled a long breath, descending deep into his elven magic to assure that his own glamour would stay in place. Since Anna's horrible revelations the strong grip he used to have on it had slipped from him, a fact that made him uneasy. If his strength waned at such a fast pace, he was running out of time quicker than what he had thought. He needed that piece of soul back in place before it was too late and nothing left of him to be saved.

He had sent Thalion to call for Tauriel, as his meeting with her was long overdue. His anger about her disobedience had somewhat faded in the light of the most recent events, yet he still needed to make a point in giving her an official reprieve. He could not let such misguided behaviour against his kingly orders go unpunished, even if he was considering reinstating her as Head of the King's Guard. After all, she had always been most loyal to him and his son's revelations about how much their friendship meant to him, had done its bit to sway his initial harsh anger against his hot-headed guard.

The doors swung open and Thalion appeared. "My lord, Tauriel is here." He bowed and resumed his position guarding at the door.

Better to get this over with quickly, so he could return to Anna, although he still would need to give his attention to Galion. His butler would inevitably show up with the layout for the feast celebrating the victorious return of his army from Dale. Thranduil's mind and his heart might be elsewhere, but he still was the king of this realm, and his people deserved this moment of happiness, so he would make sure to give them a feast to be remembered.

"Come in and take a seat." He pointed at the chair facing him.

"Thank you my lord." Nothing in Tauriel's posture gave away the nervousness this meeting surely must instil in her. She sat down and kept her eyes on him, their keen alertness attesting to her many years of being in charge of his own security.

He casually crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair.

"Tell me, Tauriel, what have you learned from your unfortunate episode of disobedience?"

The momentary blank look on her face told him that this was not what she had been expecting to hear.

"I—, my lord, I'm not quite sure what you mean by this question."

"I mean exactly what I have asked." He sighed. "I know you might have prepared yourself for a stern lecture from your king, but that is not what I have in mind. You are a smart _elleth_ , and I am sure you will have reasoned your misplaced behaviour. So I am giving you a chance to explain yourself."

She placed her hands on the armrests and faced him with surprising calm.

"May I speak freely then?"

"Yes, of course, otherwise what would the purpose of this meeting be?"

"I have learned more about the nature of loyalty than about anything else, my lord."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. This was certainly not what _he_ had been expecting to hear, but it made him curious nevertheless.

"Loyalty? Has the dwarf taught you something you did not know before?" He couldn't quite keep his distaste for the bearded mountain dwellers hidden, even if this was not the right moment to give room to his animosity.

"Kili has opened my eyes to the fact that our world does not end at the borders of Mirkwood, but that what happens outside must matter to us as much as what happens to our own people. We cannot simply close ourselves off and try to outlast whatever evil is lingering beyond the forest. The evil is already right here among us, festering in those ever growing spiders' nests, and only if we seek allies amongst men and dwarves will we have a chance at survival. If we want to protect our people, we must reach out to others. Your son Legolas knows this. When we stayed behind in Dale, it did not take long for him to establish a respectful relationship with the dwarves and courteous friendships with the men of Dale. He gained respect for his willingness to leave behind our old enmities."

"Are you by any chance suggesting that I put aside my differences with those jewel hoarders and invite them to my palace so they can get drunk on my best Dorwinion?"

"That is not what I am suggesting," she said, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, "but it might be time to look beyond the past."

"It is impossible to leave the past behind. It might be easy for mortals, but it does not work that way for us. Immortality is our gift, but also our burden. Our mistakes and losses stay with us until this world comes to an end. While they have their eyes on the future, our hearts dwell in the past."

"But the world is ever changing and we must change with it."

Thranduil threw a glance at the fire, observing the dancing flames before he continued.

"You are young and I know that you are passionate about seeing the good in men and dwarves, but don't let this blind you. Do not forget where you truly belong. You are one of the Eldar and when generations of mortals have lived their lives, you will still linger. What you might have done for one of them thousands of years ago will have long been forgotten."

What he chose to omit was that this insurmountable divide was the very thing tearing his own heart apart. However, this was not the moment to give way to his own emotions. This was the Elvenking, the leader of his people, speaking, not Thranduil, so deeply in love with a mortal, willing to face the gaping abyss of being alone yet again, if it meant some moments of happiness for both of them.

"I am aware of that," Tauriel said, "and I have not forgotten where my true loyalties lie, even if my behaviour might have made it seem otherwise. I am forever grateful that you have given me a home when I had lost everything and it was foolish of me to have betrayed the trust you have placed in me. It shall not ever happen again."

"I see that you have reasoned your behaviour and while I remain strongly opposed to anything remotely akin to friendship with the dwarves, they might indeed be an ally to be considered, if it ever came to another war against Sauron."

"That surely is true. They fight with bravery and honour."

"Spoken like a true warrior," he said and raised his glass to her. "Your actions have been hot-headed and foolish and have lead you down the wrong path, but I am willing to see beyond the past. As of today you will be taking up your position as Head of the Guard again."

"Thank you, my lord. I assure you that you will not be disappointed and—"

Tauriel suddenly stopped, as if she were having second thoughts about what she had just said.

"And?" He urged her to go on, but Tauriel looked at a spot behind his chair. He turned around following her line of vision. Aradan was cantering towards them so fast that he was nearly tripping over his skinny legs.

"Don't pay any heed to him," he said slightly annoyed. "He must learn his place, if he is ever going to be my royal mount."

Aradan skidded to a halt right in front of Thranduil and ostentatiously laid his head on his lap, looking at him in a way that would usually get him what he wanted from Anna, and from him too, even if Thranduil didn't like to admit to it. But today he wasn't in the mood for the animal's unruly call for attention. He was in the middle of a conversation that had taken an interesting turn and Aradan would have to learn to behave himself, if he valued keeping his privilege of sharing Anna's room.

Thranduil directed his attention back to Tauriel, who observed Aradan with an expression he could not quite place. His attempts at ignoring the elk calf were floundered by Aradan beginning to nibble and pull at the hem of his robe. The stubborn animal wouldn't let go, even when Thranduil swatted him away with his hand.

"He seems restless, my lord," Tauriel remarked.

"He is just spoiled, because Anna allows him too much freedom and does not enforce the rules like I have told her to." He pushed away Aradan's face and looked sternly at the animal. "Be a good boy and go back to Anna's room. As you can see, I'm busy." He pointed at the concealed door, but when Aradan only jumped back and forth between him and the open door, it dawned on him that the elk calf might be trying to tell him something.

"What is it?"

Aradan nudged at his fingers and then sped back towards Anna's room.

A sudden sense of panic rose within him. Had something happened to Anna? A myriad of terrifying scenarios unfolded in his head. What if there were unexpected side effects of the memory spell? He hadn't left her in the most stable emotional state. A dreadful sense of foreboding filled his chest.

He jumped from his seat and dashed towards the door, ignoring Tauriel's surprised stare. He couldn't care less what she thought of his unkingly behaviour. If Anna's health was at stake, protocol was the last thing on his mind. He only hoped that Aradan was just being the playful and spoiled elk calf Thranduil thought he was and that there wasn't actually anything to worry about. But when he stepped through the door he knew that he couldn't have been more wrong.

"Anna!" he called out. There was no answer and then his eyes shot to the slumped shape on the floor. His heart stopped in his chest. No, no, this could not be happening!

With two long strides he closed the distance and sank to his knees beside her. He rolled her onto her back, his hands gripping her shoulders. There was a puddle of vomit and blood beside her face.

"No, no, Anna!" He shook her frantically, but she did not move. Her breathing was shallow and irregular.

"Please, no." His voice was a choked whisper as he brushed the messy strands of hair from her pallid face. A sheen layer of sweat covered her forehead. Her rosy lips had turned a sickly blue and there was a trail of dried blood along the corner of her mouth. The sight brought tears to his eyes. Thranduil scooped her up into his arms, her small body hanging limp in his embrace. He buried his face in her hair and wept. If he lost her, he had nothing left. He couldn't keep his lips from trembling when he sent a prayer to the heavens.

"Please, Eru, have mercy. Don't take her away from me."

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Fate is not treating Anna and the poor Elvenking kindly. Will Thranduil be able to save her, or is this the end for her and their love? Yes, I know, I'm evil and I'm not denying it, but please bear with me through a little bit more torture. *hands tissues to everyone* I will be leading everything to a logical and (hopefully) satisfying conclusion really soon.**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated!**

 **The next chapter is almost ready and will be published shortly, so stay tuned!**


	41. Determined

**Here I am with another update as we are heading speedily towards the culmination of this story!**

 **A BIG thank you to my loyal readers and the lovely people who have left reviews on the preceding chapter: thrndlwood, xKaminix, GaaraSandNin, RegencyGirl17, d'elfe, Amalie Petersen, Guest and DeLacus.**

 **Thank you also to those who have favourited and/or followed my story. I really appreciate your support. 3**

 **Onwards it is to find out what will happen to Anna ...**

* * *

Chapter 40 - Determined

 _With every heartbeat I have left_

 _I will defend your every breath._

(Sleeping At Last: Light)

"My lord?" Tauriel's voice pulled Thranduil out of the torrent of despair that threatened to drown him.

He rose from the floor with Anna, holding her tight to his chest, facing both Tauriel, Thalion and Aradan who had followed after him.

"Why was no one with her?" His gaze of ice went to his guard Thalion.

"She wanted to be alone and was adamant about not being disturbed, my lord," Thalion said apologetically. "We were not aware that she was unwell."

"She is not simply unwell. She is burning up and I am taking her to my chambers." He had quickly recovered his determination. There might come a day when he would be defeated, but it was not this day.

"Tauriel, fetch me hot water, fresh linens and _athelas_!"

"Yes, my lord," Tauriel obediently went on her way.

"Thalion, find Brethilwen, and be quick about it. We must not lose any more precious time."

"Of course." He bowed quickly and was gone, obviously relieved to make himself useful.

Thranduil rushed her to his chambers, Aradan teetering behind him, and then he carefully laid her down on his bed, covering her with his enormous quilt. A breathy sigh escaped her lips as he bent over her face.

"Hold on, my little flower," he told her, kissing her forehead. "Don't let go!"

He unbuttoned his robe with flying fingers and tossed it carelessly onto his dresser. Then he proceeded to roll up the sleeves of his tunic, his eyes never leaving Anna. What if he was too late? He would never forgive himself for having left her alone when she needed him most. The thought of her being in pain all by herself caused a dreadful knot in his stomach.

Tauriel appeared with two servants, who brought a bowl of hot water and a pile of fresh linens. They placed the requested items on the large bedside table and awaited the king's orders.

"You may leave." He waved them away impatiently. "Why is Brethilwen not here yet and why did you not bring any _athelas_?" He threw Tauriel a dark glance, and then proceeded to swiftly loosen the upper buttons of Anna's dress.

"Brethilwen will be here shortly, my lord. Thalion had to go and search for her in the healers' ward. She was helping out the healers who are taking care of the wounded soldiers."

Before Thranduil could retort, Brethilwen swept into the king's chambers, a bundle of _athelas_ in one hand and her satchel in the other.

"I came as fast as I could, my lord," she greeted the king and one glance at Anna made her get right to work beside Thranduil.

"Since when is she in this state?" she said, quickly plucking the leaves and dropping them inside the bowl of water, the fragrant scent of _athelas_ filling the air.

"I am not sure. I only just found her in her room," Thranduil retorted. He reached for one of the linens and dipped it into the water. "I am afraid it could have been a while. She has not come back to consciousness." He gently wiped her face and passed the towel over her neck, removing remnants of blood and vomit.

Closing his eyes he placed a hand upon her brow, his fingertips almost sizzling as he touched her.

"Has she taken the antidote?" Brethilwen asked.

"The antidote?"

"It's the strongest remedy I have been able to come up to battle the symptoms of the spider's venom. I gave her a small phial and urged her to carry it with her at all times."

"She did not tell me anything about it." He dropped the linen and began a frantic search for the phial, only to realise that he had no idea where to start looking for it.

He shot Brethilwen a silent plea for help and she said, "I guess she would have stored it in the pockets of her dress."

"Her dress, of course," he muttered to himself, struggling to make his fingers work through the abundant folds until he finally found the tiny glass container.

"You mean this? Will this help her?" He held it out to Brethilwen, a sliver of hope dawning on the gloomy horizon.

"Yes, it will help her, not for long, but it will lower the fever and allow her to sleep."

He unplugged the phial with shaky hands and brought it to her mouth. Raising her head and supporting it with one hand he poured the liquid into her mouth. She coughed and nearly spitted it out again, but he gently closed her mouth and made her swallow all of it. He let her head sink back into the pillow and watched her face intently.

He didn't object when Aradan climbed into bed and curled up beside Anna. It wasn't an easy feat for the elk calf, considering the massive proportions of Thranduil's bed and for once he felt magnanimous enough to grant him this privilege. If it hadn't been for the animal's insistence, Anna might have been beyond hope of ever coming out of this alive. Besides, he harboured the secret hope that Aradan's presence might have a soothing effect on her. It had not escaped his notice that they appeared to have a strong connection.

The minutes dragged along excruciatingly slow, but eventually her ragged breathing evened out and the remnants of strain on her face turned into signs of relaxation and deep sleep.

Only when he had assured himself that the fever was indeed gradually leaving her, he rose from the mattress. He paced around the bed, raking his hands through his hair.

"How much time does this give her?"

"Not enough I am afraid. I only have one more antidote and there is too little time for me to make another one. The fever has come back much stronger than what I had thought it would."

"But why, why is it affecting her like that?" His despair threatened to overcome him again, the thought of losing her driving him nearly insane. From the corner of his eyes he saw Brethilwen watching him with concern, her own face pale.

"I feared that something like this could happen."

"Why did you not tell me about it? You should have warned me! I am your king and you are not to keep such grave matters hidden from me. Her life is in danger and I might have nothing in my power to save her." The feeling of helplessness was numbing.

"I did not want you to worry about it. She was doing so fine, recovering suddenly much quicker than before, that I thought this would give me enough time to have found a cure if it ever came back. It seems that I was wrong."

He was ready to throw her an angry reprimand, but he forced himself to stay calm and reasonable.

"I still don't understand. The venom should have left her body by now. It's as if there is something inside her that is preventing her from recovering completely."

"There is indeed," Brethilwen said, and Thranduil stopped dead in his tracks.

"What do you mean?" He gripped one of the bedposts for support.

"It's the piece of soul, your piece of soul that she is carrying. It seems that the poison has clung to it and is now festering inside her. It is the only explanation I can think of. As long as it stays latched to her, the poison will remain inside her and it will eventually kill her. She is not strong enough to fight it any longer. She only has the body of a human and it is already bordering on a miracle that she has survived so long with it."

It took him a while to process Brethilwen's explanation.

"But why has the poison clung to my piece of soul? That makes no sense."

"That was my first thought too, until I realised that it must be Sauron's way of getting to you. He could not destroy you back then, so he is searching to mar that little piece of your soul that has found a place inside her."

"But there has to be a way to save her! What do I need to do to make it stop? You are a healer, you must know!" His throat was clogging up, his glamour wavering dangerously.

"There is one way to save her," Brethilwen said with hesitation, "but it is dangerous."

"Dangerous? How can it be more dangerous? She is at the brink of death already."

"I am not talking about her. I am talking about you."

"About me?"

"Remember that I am first and foremost your healer, so your own wellbeing is my prime concern."

"Anna is dying! The woman I love is dying." He pointed with his finger at Anna's sleeping form and for the first time in all this, he raised his voice. He had been trying to contain his anger at the cruelty of fate, but if his healer chose to withhold a vital piece of information from him, something that might decide if Anna lived or died, his wrath would be terrible. "I'm watching her being consumed by death without being able to stop it and you speak to me of my wellbeing? As your king I'm ordering you to tell me what I can do to save her. If there is anything in my power to stop death from claiming her, I shall do so, may Eru be my witness."

"Very well," Brethilwen said, her reluctance still palpable. "You need to invoke a soul bond with her, so the piece of soul can return to you again. Once she is free of it, the venom will have left her too."

"A soul bond, you mean—"

"Yes, I do not speak of a mere healing bond, as this would not be powerful enough, but you must irrevocably tie both of your souls together."

For a moment he was speechless. As much as he had wanted to make her his and desired this intimate bond with her, this wasn't the way he had envisioned it.

"And what is this danger you speak of?"

"Without being in full possession of your powers, you might not be strong enough to fight the venom once the piece of soul has passed back to you."

The honest concern in her eyes made him weigh Brethilwen's words, but it did not make him doubt his resolve.

"Then, so shall it be. It is a risk I am willing to take. I will not watch idly as Anna wastes away before my eyes and I can only regain my full strength through having my soul restored, so bonding with her is the only way to save both her and me."

Brethilwen nodded slowly. "I knew that you would say that, but please be mindful of your strength. You are treading a thin line of what you can bear without spending yourself in the process."

"I will do whatever it takes to pull her from the claws of death."

Brethilwen rummaged through her satchel and pulled out another small glass bottle. "Here is the last antidote. Use it wisely."

"How long—" He could not bring himself to finish the sentence.

"A few hours, at the most one night," Brethilwen said, placing a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry that it had to come to this, Thranduil."

"One night is all I need." He took the phial from her. "Anna may have come here to save me, but it is I who must save her now."

* * *

He sent Brethilwen away, instructing her that, under no circumstances, was he to be disturbed and if anyone would be so bold as to defy his orders, they would be subjugated to cleaning elk droppings for months to come.

"Aradan," he said, scratching the elk calf behind his ears. "Your time is up." When Aradan only raised his head with mild disinterest and seemed intent on keeping his place close to Anna, Thranduil crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked sternly at the elk calf.

"This is my bed and it's my turn now to share it with Anna." He gave Aradan a determined shove towards the edge of the bed where he remained stubbornly seated, throwing Thranduil a reproachful glance.

"I am grateful for what you did, little one, but this does not mean that you can now come to my bed any time you please."

He plucked some dark brown hair from his quilt. "Especially not if you're going to leave your hair all over."

Thranduil pointed at the concealed door. "Now go to Anna's room and be a good boy and stay there. I told Brethilwen to leave an extra treat out for you."

The last bit seemed to sway the animal. He jumped from the bed and dashed towards the room faster than lightning. Thranduil made sure to close the door behind him, a small smile on his face. Today's events had made one thing crystal clear. Aradan had earned his place as royal mount.

His eyes never once left Anna while she slept. With a flick of his hand he lighted one candle after the other until the whole room was bathed in a golden glow. His magic might have been depleted, but it was still powerful enough for simple enchantments like these. Despite the dreary outlook, he wanted this moment to be perfect for her.

He poured himself a glass of _Miruvór_ and then prepared a second one for Anna. She would need it when she woke up. According to Brethilwen the antidote would lower the fever and allow her body to recover for a short time, but she would need more strength for what awaited her. A soul bond was a powerful thing even for elves, but it might put additional strain on Anna being a human, especially since she was already weakened by the fever. However, it was her only chance at ever fully healing, so it was a risk he needed to take. If Anna agreed to their soul bond, it would mark a turning point in their relationship. Not only would it allow his soul to heal and save her from the deadly poison, but it would also make her his wife, a thought that filled his heart with joy.

He would not be detracted by the thought of what the venom might do to him after their bonding. This needed to be done. Draining the glass of _Miruvór_ , he revelled in the feeling of warmth that flooded his chest. Hopefully the cordial would provide him with enough strength to see everything through.

Thranduil made sure to adjust the quilt, checking Anna's hands to see if she was neither feeling too hot nor too cold. Although remnants of whatever had been inside her stomach, when she had gotten sick all over herself, were still stuck to her hands, the softness of her skin felt delightful against his own. If he couldn't do anything else for her now, he could at least see to it that she was free from any direct reminders of her earlier torment. A full bath was out of the question, there was neither the time for it, nor would it be possible with her still asleep, besides, he would not do anything that might cast a doubt on his honourable intentions.

He sat himself on the bed beside her with another fresh bowl of water and a pile of linens and got to work. Beginning with her hands he devoted himself to this task that might have been deemed menial, but it filled him with a sense of usefulness in the face of the uncertainty that lay before him. With careful precision he passed a linen cloth over her forehead, along her neck and down to where the open dress revealed a glimpse of her chest. He then proceeded to comb her hair as gently as he could without waking her. Whenever he found remnants of blood and vomit stuck to her honey coloured strands he wiped them away with the soaked towel and then passed over it with the brush until everything was to his satisfaction. There wasn't much to be done about the state of her dress, but looking down at himself, he wasn't in a much better state to begin with. For once, it didn't matter. His only worry was that she would come out of this alive.

She looked so small and fragile, especially compared to the size of his bed. Yet she was so much stronger than what her appearance had led him to believe. Not only had she gone through a horrible death and lost her family, but she had come here and accepted the task to save his soul without even knowing what expected her. She had fallen in love with him, quietly and fiercely, while he was too proud to admit his own feelings for her. And if he hadn't been so obsessed over reclaiming a necklace that hadn't done him any good in his entire life, she would have never left the palace and gotten herself into this dreadful situation with the spiders. He was the one to be blamed for the fact that she was now hovering above the abyss of death.

"Forgive me, please," he whispered. "I never wished for any of this to happen and I am deeply sorry that you now have to pay the price for my blindness, for not having seen love when it was right in front of me."

He grazed his hand against her cheek. Her temperature had gone back to normal and her breathing was deep and regular. The colour of her face remained paler than the usual, highlighting the dusting of freckles on her skin in the flickering candlelight. Her lips had recovered their rosy pink and were slightly parted, a sight that made him want to show her just how much he desired her. He placed a light kiss on them and then there was one more thing that remained to be done.

He went to his desk and from a drawer he retrieved the small flower ring. Many years ago he had it made when he had first heard the song of the trees, speaking to him about someone who was meant for him. It had whispered of a small flower, who would save not only him, but also his forest from the darkness. His little flower.

It was time that the ring found its rightful owner.

Sindarin:

 _athelas_ \- kingsfoil, a medicinal herb

 _Miruvór_ \- an elven cordial

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Thank you for reading and hanging in there through all the evil torment. I hope you are as excited as I am for the next chapter, which is _the_ one you've (hopefully) all been waiting for.**

 **Reviews, favs and follows are very much appreciated.**

 **Stay tuned, the next chapter will be posted on Saturday.**


	42. Becoming One

**Here I am with the promised climactic chapter! I hope you are as excited as I am.**

 **First I want to give a BIG thank you to all those lovely readers who have left reviews on the preceding chapter: RubberDuckiez, RegencyGirl17, Amalie Petersen, d'elfe, Guest, sapphire-deity and thrndlwood!**

 **Warning! SPOILERS ahead!**

I just wanted to give you all a heads-up that I've changed the rating of this story to mature. Anna and Thranduil will consummate their love in this chapter and I'm not fading to black.  
Why am I telling you this? I just want you to keep in mind the following: I want to write what comes from my heart and I don't want to put any limitations on myself just because some readers might not want to read certain things. I cannot cater to everyone's tastes.  
Secondly: I'm not denying myself, the majority of my readers and my characters this special moment. I've done my best to make it tender and sweet. You will not find any graphic or explicit details, because I believe that subtlety fuels the readers' imagination much more than spelling everything out. Still I have marked the moment of truth with ***, so if you'd rather skip this part, you know where to stop reading.

 **After all is said and done, there's only one more thing left to say:** **To all the hopeless romantics out there, this chapter is for you!**

* * *

 _Chapter 41 - Becoming One_

 _Like a force to be reckoned with_

 _A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss_

 _I will love you with every single thing I have._

(Sleeping At Last: Two)

Anna opened her eyes. At first she had trouble focussing on her surroundings. Her eyelids were heavy like lead and her body felt like she had been both through a storm and an earthquake. Mercifully the pain was gone and all that remained was a certain numbness in her limbs. She squinted and looked up.

There was a net of entwined branches above her, a golden light seeping through their tangled dome. The forest, was she in the forest? No, it couldn't be, because there was undoubtedly a mattress beneath her and a quilt covering her, except this definitely wasn't her own bed. It felt much too wide and her bed didn't have a canopy like that. Then it hit her. She knew one bed with a canopy like that. More than once she had thrown it covert glances, scolding herself for imagining herself in this very bed, in Thranduil's arms.

"W—why am I here? What happened?" she mumbled, and then she managed to turn her head sideways.

"I'm so glad to see you awake."

Thranduil was lying beside her, propped up on his elbow. His usually perfect hair was mussed, and his beautiful face showed obvious signs of strain. He was wearing a thin linen tunic that was half unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his chest and simple grey leggings. The only jewellery he wore was the small flower ring on his finger.

"You had a sudden attack of fever, and were unconscious when I found you. Aradan was the one who led me to your room."

"He did?" A weak smile dawned on her face.

"Yes, he did. It seems that he is an unusually perceptive animal." Reciprocating her smile he added, "And very fond of you. He refused to leave your side until you started showing definite signs of improvement."

Suddenly everything came back to her, the pain, the fever, the blood and the vomit, which made her sorely conscious of her own dishevelled state. She was still wearing her velvet dress, the one with the ink stains as well as those added in the tunnel, but to her relief her hands and face felt clean, and even her hair seemed to have been brushed and was nearly free of all tangles.

"I took the liberty of cleaning you up and brushing your hair," he said, when he saw her touching her face and hair.

"You did this yourself?"

He nodded. "I needed to do something to distract myself while you slept, and I wanted to stay close to you."

This gesture meant more to her than what he probably thought. He hadn't ordered his servants to do this task, no, he had done it himself, even though the sight and smell must have been less than pleasant.

"Thank you," she said. If she needed any more proof that he truly loved and cared for her, she had just gotten it.

"I will always be there for you, _lotheg nín_ ," he said, reaching towards the bedside table. "You should take another dose of the antidote, just to be safe."

She nodded and obediently drank the liquid that left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. When she made a face of disgust, he handed her the glass of _Miruvór_.

"This will wash away the lingering taste and will strengthen you."

She took the cup he offered her, remembering very well the soothing effect this elven cordial had had on her in the past. Once the golden liquid had spread through her veins and a feeling of warmth settled in her chest, she sank back into the pillows. The grave look on his face spoke volumes.

"Am I dying?"

"No, not if I can help it."

"But it is serious, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"What is happening to me? Why does this fever keep coming back?"

He studied her face, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully.

"It seems that the spider's venom has found a way to cling to that piece of my soul you carry. As long as it remains with you, so will the venom."

"And if it's gone, the venom will be gone too?"

"Yes, both will leave your body, allowing you to fully recover."

"But what will happen to you when the piece of soul goes back to you? Will the venom affect you too?"

"It might, but I will be able to battle it. My magic will be strong enough, especially once my soul has recovered its missing piece. But I don't want you to worry about me. It is your wellbeing I am concerned with. I know you came here to save me, but allow me now to help you heal." For a moment he hesitated. "I fear that we do not have much time though."

"How long is not much time?" She wasn't sure she was prepared to hear the truth.

"A few hours, one night at the most," he said quietly.

She swallowed thickly. "That's not much, even for human standards."

"Which is why we cannot delay any longer. I know that I have offered you time to come to terms with your past, but this is a matter of life and death and I don't want to lose you to the spider's venom. Those wicked creatures will never claim victory, not as long as I have one breath left in me."

Anna bit her lower lip, while she pieced together what she had wanted to say to him, but could not because the fever had foiled her plans of writing it in a letter to him.

"Whatever I do now will not change my past, and even if it breaks my heart to know that I will never see my family again, I know that it is no use to cling to something that has been lost forever."

Thranduil nodded silently, acknowledging her decision. She looked up to him, trying to keep her voice from wavering.

"To give you back your piece of soul we must—" she broke off, slightly embarrassed to openly speak about such an intimate act.

"We must bond our souls, yes. Are you aware of what this involves?"

"Yes, I am aware." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but her heart was beating like a drum in her chest.

The tragic irony of all this was not lost on her. The very act that would free her from the venom, would be the one that could cause her death. No matter what, it seemed that her life was forfeit. But she was determined to see this through. Thranduil needed his soul to be whole and if this was the price, then this is what she would pay.

Thranduil sat up beside her and reached for her hands.

"Do you trust me?"

"I do."

"I want you to know that I love you with all my heart, and even if these are not the circumstances I had in mind, I have been looking forward to share this special moment with you."

He pulled her up to sit facing him in the middle of the bed. The carved trees that formed the bedposts and canopy of the massive fourposter made it appear as if they were in the middle of the forest, the sea of candles bathing everything in a golden light. Thranduil himself looked more beautiful to her than ever. His uncombed hair, the tunic with its sleeves unevenly rolled up and even the outline of his scar, which was visible beneath his faltering glamour, could not detract from his beauty, his true beauty, which was his loving heart. His imperfections were what made him perfect to her.

His voice was both serious, but also full of emotion when he spoke to her from the depths of his heart.

"Anna, you are the spring to my winter, the sunshine to my darkness, the one who brought me joy and taught me to love life again. A life I want to share with you as your husband. I am offering you my heart, if you will have me."

"Yes, I will," she whispered and the starlight in his eyes shone brighter than ever. He pulled the small flower ring from his finger and slid it onto her own finger.

"I want you to have this as a sign of my devotion to you. I know that among humans it is customary to wear wedding rings. I will have a second one made, so we can have matching ones."

She admired the ring that adjusted perfectly to the size of her own finger. It was the most beautiful piece of jewellery she now would possess.

"I will cherish it forever," she said.

He observed her quietly for a moment before he continued.

"We must now speak our vows to become husband and wife."

"Do we not need a ceremony?" she asked, a tingle of nervous excitement settling in her stomach.

"No, we don't. It is enough that we state our love before Eru."

"I don't think I know any elven wedding vows." What if she said something wrong? The thought made her feel thoroughly embarrassed.

He gave her a reassuring smile.

"You don't need to know any. Just repeat after me and we will be rightfully married."

He took her hands in his and held them to his heart as he spoke.

"I, Thranduil, will take you, Anna, as my wife, to love you and to cherish you, and uphold our sacred bond until this world comes to an end. May Eru be witness to my words and hold me to them."

Anna took his hands and placed them on her heart in return. A feeling of warmth pooled in her chest when she spoke her own vows.

"I, Anna, will take you, Thranduil, as my husband, to love and cherish you, and uphold our sacred bond until this world comes to an end or death claim me. Eru shall be the witness to my words and may hold me to them."

The bittersweet truth of her own vows nearly overwhelmed her. Even if she survived their bonding, she would still be mortal. They would be able to share together a few decades at the most.

" _Meleth nín_ ," he whispered and then he kissed her. The passion and urgency in his kiss made her give in to his demand, sealing their promise to each other with their lips.

* * *

He laid her down on the bed, ever so gently, and for a moment he only looked at her, taking in the sight of her.

"My wife," he said reverently.

A warm and fuzzy feeling settled in her chest at the sound of these words. "My husband," she whispered in return. She still could barely believe that he was now truly hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, revelling in the warmth of his skin. He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose, her brows, her cheeks.

"Do you know what it means to be my wife?" he asked her between kisses.

"Tell me, what does it mean?" She snuggled against his body, breathing in his scent. This was home.

He ran his fingers down her arms while he spoke. "It means that you are my everything, that I cherish you above all others and that I will do everything in my power to make you happy, for as long as the gift of the sacred bond ties us together."

The sincerity in his words made her heart ache. "I'm honoured to be your wife, _aran nín_ , and I want nothing more than to be yours completely."

"My lovely bride," he said, leaning further down to press a kiss to her lips. An aching need went through her when the kiss turned heated and he shifted his body to lie on top of her. "I want to make love to you," he murmured into her ear, his words a delicious promise worth any sacrifice she was willing to give.

"Make me yours," she whispered.

"But first we need to get you out of this dress." He frowned. "I'm afraid these buttons and laces will take me a long time to get undone."

"Let me undress you first then," she said, suddenly emboldened by her own desire building up in her core. She wanted to see him, all of him, and then she wanted to feel him, skin against skin.

To her surprise he did not object. "Your wish is my command," he said, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

Anna worked through unbuttoning his tunic rather slowly, her fingers not as swift as usual, gradually exposing his torso to her eager eyes. A sense of possessive pride filled her at the fact that he was now hers to enjoy and explore. When she had reached the last button, he helped her slide the garment over his shoulders, her hands grazing along his toned arms as she pulled it off completely.

"You are so beautiful," she said, marvelling at the perfection of his sculpted chest. It was broad and strong, bearing the obvious signs of a trained warrior, but still maintaining the smooth gracefulness that was innate of the elven physique.

Thranduil drew in a sharp breath when she ran a daring hand down his chest and over his abdomen, lingering along the warm skin bordering the waistband of his leggings. He pulled her hand away and kissed the tip of her fingers.

"My turn," he said.

"But I'm not done," she protested.

"One thing at a time, you'll get to see it all soon enough." He gave her a wicked grin.

A tingle of heat went through her body as anticipation and the remnants of bashfulness fought for dominance at the prospect of what he was going to do next.

With careful diligence Thranduil undid one button after the other, bestowing equal attention to the laces on the back of her dress until all were loosened. He slid her dress off her shoulders and did not stop until he had pulled it over her hips and let it drop to the floor, leaving her with nothing but her thin undergarment that covered her most intimate area. She blushed furiously and her hands went to her breasts, a sudden wave of self-consciousness washing over her at being so exposed to him. He was an elf, the epitome of flawless perfection, yet she was only a human, her mortal body far from what he might consider beautiful enough.

"Don't be ashamed," he said. "I am your husband and you are magnificent to me." He took away her hands, studying her body as if he were admiring a piece of art.

"I—I'm sorry. It's just, I have never been with an elf before, nor with a king." She blushed even more at the admittance of her inexperience.

He grazed his hands over her breasts and squeezed them softly. "I might be the Elvenking, but I have never been with a human before," he said, his touch sending goosebumps over her skin, "so we are even."

Her feeling of vulnerability gradually faded away under his tender ministrations. With determined hands he finally pulled down her undergarment, revealing her downy nest of blonde curls to his eyes. She instinctively tried to close her legs, but he sat himself between them, his own leggings the only piece of clothing still separating them.

"Don't cover yourself," he said, his nostrils flaring when he took in her scent. "You are perfect, all of you."

She nearly melted into the sheets under his appreciative glance. He lowered his head and kissed each of her breasts with reverent devotion, igniting a flutter in Anna's stomach.

"When our souls entwine, you will feel a strong tug that might scare you with its force. It will be like nothing you have ever felt before, overwhelming like the incoming tide and powerful as a thunderstorm. But there is unmatched beauty to this moment. There is nothing more intimate than two souls becoming one. It is when they are at their most vulnerable but also at their most powerful state, forging a bond that is akin to the deepest roots of the forest becoming one with the earth around it."

"You make it sound so very beautiful," she said, anxiety and excitement mounting inside her. What if her human soul was not strong enough to withstand these forces? She tried to shove her worries to the back of her head, not to spoil this moment.

"It is beautiful. When souls bond they fill the world with their songs and ours will be part of this everlasting music. Whatever happens, I don't want you to be afraid. I will not hurt you." He kissed the crown of her head.

"I'm not afraid. I trust you." The first thing was a lie, the second wasn't. Yes, she was terrified of what might happen, but she also felt safe with him.

 **M *****

He loosened the strings of his leggings to pull them down and her eyes were drawn to the object of her desire. She smiled at what she saw. He definitely did not disappoint.

"I will be gentle with you," he said. "I don't want my desire for you to scare you."

"I'm giving myself to you, body, heart and soul," she said. "I don't need you to be gentle. I want to feel your desire for me."

Her words ignited a fire in his eyes. "Then tell me this is what you want, Anna." He settled himself between her legs, hovering above her.

She breathed, "You are what I have always wanted."

A shiver went through his body as he lowered himself onto her. He took his time and seemed to savour every instant of this delightful moment of anticipation. It made Anna antsy and she wriggled impatiently beneath him.

"Patience, my little flower," he reminded her, watching her intently, as if he wanted to memorise every single feature of her face. It was torturous bliss, being at his mercy.

"You are mine now," he said, nudging at her entrance. Sparks shot through Anna's body. If he waited any longer, she would combust from sheer desire. He grazed a finger down her neck and over her chest, until it rested right over her heart. It thundered beneath his touch and when he fixed her with his gaze, she drowned in a sea of stars.

"I claim you as my wife," he said, pushing himself inside her.

Anna's world exploded in starlight.

"Thranduil!" She arched her back to meet his thrust. The sudden feeling of him inside her took her breath away and she had to hold on to his broad shoulders not to fall apart right then and there.

He stilled for a moment, resting his forehead against hers, the strands of his hair falling like silvery waves around both heir faces.

"Say it. Say that you are mine!" The pleading undertone in his command made her heart go out to him.

"I'm yours," she said, placing her flat hand on his chest, over his own hammering heart, "and I claim you as my husband."

The answering smile on his face brought tears to her eyes, but she was not ashamed that he should see her cry. She felt overwhelming joy at being finally united with him. She would save his soul and then she would happily exhale her last breath in his tender embrace, if this was what fate had in store for her.

" _Gi melin_ , Anna, now and forever."

She met his declaration of love with a kiss, capturing his lips with her own, and boldly pushing her tongue into his mouth.

Their hands entwined when he finally started moving inside her, setting an agonisingly slow pace to begin with. Her world reduced to both of them so intimately joined. Nothing and no one else mattered. This moment — it was everything she had ever dreamed of.

A gossamer thread spread from her soul to him, an answering one reaching out from him to her, both of them weaving a golden net around them. The tug on her soul became stronger, more forceful with each of his thrusts into her, bringing her rapidly to the edge of what she could bear without letting herself fall.

"Don't hold back," he said, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her tighter against him. "I want to see you come undone."

He claimed her mouth with a ravenous hunger that should have scared her, but it didn't. The fact that he wanted her so much turned her insides molten with desire and made her relinquish the last remnants of control. Her hands roamed over the muscled planes of his back, and she elicited a groan of pleasure from him when she ran her finger over the sensitive tip of his ear.

Faster and faster the world spun around her, as she was being pulled into a vast space that appeared empty at first, but then filled with sounds and colours that were both foreign and familiar. A powerful song rose within her, a melody so beautiful that she wanted to forever linger and listen. Feelings of grief and despair mingled with those of deepest joy and with echoes of other emotions she did not recognise as her own.

"Give in to it," he said, the song between them building up with an urgent crescendo that drove them towards each other with its ever increasing tempo, reaching for the light that awaited them at the pinnacle of pleasure.

"I can feel you," she said, when her own soul flowed into his, all barriers between them torn down, soul against soul, bare and vulnerable.

"Let yourself fall." He kissed her neck, the heat of his lips fuelling the fire that burned inside her.

She was on the brink of losing herself in the ocean of delight. "Please," she begged.

"Please what?" He raised himself up to look at her and then his fingers went to that aching spot between her legs. She melted like wax in his hands.

"Don't stop!" she pleaded. Her entire body tensed, a feeling of fullness radiating from her core.

"I won't," he said, watching her as he brought her ever closer to completion, "and I will be there to catch you."

A flicker of light came into her vision, turning brighter and stronger, until it seemed like the endless universe itself opened up for her, stars upon stars zooming past her when at last she found the brightest of them all, overwhelming in its iridescent beauty. It reached out to her and pulled her along until they were both spinning in a blinding circle of light.

"Thranduil, I—!" The heat coursing through her veins had reached boiling point.

"Let go!" he ordered.

His low and husky voice, the magical touch of his fingers and his passionate thrusts sent her flying over the edge. A loud moan escaped her, but she couldn't care less about propriety. Her vision blurred as she shattered around him, white-hot heat blazing through her body like wildfire.

"Anna!" Her name fell like a prayer from his lips when he joined her in the realm of bliss. He exhaled a shuddering breath and buried his head against her shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"I love you," she whispered into his hair. She clung to his body for dear life as a mighty wave swept her away into darkness.

Sindarin:

 _lotheg nín -_ my little flower

 _Miruvór -_ an elven cordial

 _meleth nín_ \- my beloved

 _aran nín_ \- my king

 _gi melin_ \- I love you

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I hope you've enjoyed this beautiful moment of Anna and Thranduil finally becoming one. It has been a real pleasure to write. Tender and passionate Thranduil is _the_ best. I love the way their relationship has deepened so much since they started out on this journey.**

 **Sorry for the cliffhanger though. You know I just can't _not_ be evil. I promise that you will get all the answers you have been waiting for! The next chapter marks the conclusion of the main story arc, the tale itself isn't quite over yet. So stay tuned for more to come.**

 **Favs, follows and reviews are very much appreciated!**


	43. Eru's Gift

**As always I want to thank all the lovely people who have left reviews on the previous chapter: durinsdaughter2469btw, Honoria Granger, saphhire-deity, thrndlwood and Guest.**

 **Thank you also to all those who have followed and/or favourited this story. All your support means a lot to me!**

 **Onwards to the next chapter it is, where you will be getting all those answers you've been waiting for.**

* * *

 _Chapter 42 - Eru's Gift_

 _And what a privilege it is to love_

 _A great honor to hold you up._

(Sleeping At Last: Two)

Mellow sunlight flooded Anna's eyes. Thranduil's bedroom was gone, no—the entire palace had vanished. Around her there was a tranquil meadow, lush green grass beneath her bare feet, branches of trees swaying in a gentle breeze above her head. In the distance the purling of a small stream could be heard. It was beautiful and so serene that her heart felt instantly at peace. Looking down at herself she saw that she was dressed in a simple white tunic, her hair falling in loose strands over her shoulders.

Thranduil was standing to her left, his hair in its usual state of flawless perfection, the white tunic that matched her own bestowing upon him a truly regal look, despite the absence of crown or rings. Their hands entwined and her eyes shifted to the small flower ring on her finger. So everything had been real, not a dream. They had bonded. She was not dead. Or was she?

But what was this place and why were they here?

To add to her unanswered questions the shape of a female figure suddenly appeared in front of them. Her face was obscured by a hood, the lengths of her dark brown hair falling onto her green cloak. In her hand she held a wooden staff, a gleaming emerald sitting atop it.

"I have been expecting you," she said in a soft voice.

That voice sounded familiar, as if were the voice of a friend. But—this was impossible.

"I understand that this must seem strange to you," she said, her voice polite, yet determined, "but I am here to help you, so I need you both to trust me."

"Trust you?" The words slipped out before Anna could stop them. Her ability to put her trust in people she thought trustworthy had been seriously shaken after her last encounter with Gandalf. What if this was another trick to deprive them of their happiness?

"I can vouch for her," said a low and rumbling voice and then the familiar shape of Gandalf appeared right beside the mysterious lady.

"Of course, I should have known that this is yet another one of your machinations, or is being a master of grand illusions now part of your trade as wizard?" The irritation in Thranduil's voice was palpable.

"Oh no, it is neither a machination nor an illusion and even if it were, creating something so grand is far beyond my modest abilities," said Gandalf. "Only Eru himself holds such great powers. We are but humble servants of his will and have been granted only a few liberties with the layout of his design."

"Are you indeed? It seems that you have been keeping more secrets than what is befitting even of an Istari. I demand that you tell us where we are and what all this is about."

"We are at the Crossroads, of course," the lady said as if she were talking about the most common place in the palace.

"The Crossroads? But this looks completely different," Anna said. The abundant green vegetation looked nothing like the dark void she remembered.

"Looks can be deceptive," the hooded lady said. "I really don't know why Mithrandir insists on making this place appear so dark and empty, when this beautiful meadow is just perfectly fine in my opinion." She turned her head towards Gandalf. "Definitely, much better than that somber grey version of yours."

Gandalf cleared his throat. "I find that it lends a mysterious air to the place and does not detract from its purpose. It is a liminal space after all, a place of transition, of moving from one state to another—"

"I know what it is. Don't forget that I have been tasked with guarding it for as long as you have," she countered. Apparently this wasn't the first time they had had this discussion.

She finally pulled back her hood and Anna gasped in surprise.

"Brethilwen—?" Thranduil said out loud what Anna had been thinking.

"Yes, it is me," she said, the sunlight illuminating her face. There seemed to be a golden glow to her skin and her piercing grey eyes looked liked polished diamonds.

"B—but you look so different!" was all Anna could say.

"As I said before, looks can be deceptive," Brethilwen said, the familiar intonation of her voice in stark contrast to her unusual appearance. "I am one of the Istari, known on the shores of Valinor as Isilmë the Green, but for you I am Brethilwen and will remain as such."

"All this time you have kept this hidden from me?" Expressions of shock and disbelief chased each other across Thranduil's face.

"I was bound to secrecy."

"But I'm your king!"

"I serve a higher one and must obey his will. But let it be known that more than once I would have wished to let you see more than what I was permitted to show you."

Thranduil appeared to be weighing her words, a moment of tense silence enveloping them. "Can we get to the point of this meeting, or whatever this is? There is a bedroom I'd rather return to with my wife." Despite the annoyance in his words a feeling of pride welled within her when Thranduil called her his wife.

"Of course you do," Gandalf said, a smile shining through his tangled beard, "and although I am very sorry about this unduly interruption, it is of utmost importance that you hear us out."

He looked at Brethilwen who straightened herself, gracefully wrapping both her hands around her staff, the emerald sparkling in the sunshine.

"You must answer this question truthfully: have you taken your vows and consummated your love to be lawfully wedded before Eru?"

Heat rose to Anna's cheeks, but mercifully she was spared her answer.

"Yes, we have," Thranduil said, "but what has this to do with why we are here?" There was an undercurrent of menace in his voice, as if he feared that any moment their happiness might be taken away from them.

"It has everything to do with it and it is the reason you are here at the Crossroads," Brethilwen explained calmly. "By tying your souls together your lives have come to a turning point. Now listen carefully as these are the words of Eru himself as he wishes you to hear them."

"Anna," Gandalf addressed her solemnly, "when you embarked on your journey into the unknown, the compass of your heart was your only guidance. Your selfless love as well as your empathy and kindness have won you the heart of the one whose soul you have set out to heal. And even when it was revealed to you that this task might claim your life in the end, your resolve did not waver. You did not shy away from giving your life, as it meant saving the one you loved. What you did, embracing death in the name of love, is the greatest sacrifice of all."

Anna held her breath as she listened to the wizard's words and when Brethilwen spoke, her voice sounded both ancient and young.

"Thranduil," she began, "the cursed dragon fire left you with a marred body, a torn soul and a broken heart. It has been my task ever since to find a cure, so you could be whole again. Mending your physical injuries needed all my skills as a healer. For a very long time, I doubted that your body could ever recover, but it did. Your extraordinary determination and willpower have allowed you to outwardly heal, but your soul had remained incomplete, making a full recovery impossible and leaving you with your strength diminished. If no help came, your fading would have been inevitable. It is because of Mithrandir and his untiring dedication that we uncovered the intricate correlation between the wounds of your heart and the missing piece of your soul. Healing your soul could only be achieved by mending your heart first. He journeyed even beyond the borders of our world to find the one who, we hoped, might thaw your frozen heart and by doing so, heal your broken soul. When you allowed the tender sapling of new love to take root inside you, you finally pushed open the door to being whole again. Furthermore, your willingness to give your own life if it meant that Anna could be saved from death, is the living proof of the profundity of your love for her."

Gandalf now addressed them both, "Every step along the way, no matter how painful it might have been, has led you to this point. You may call it a quest or a trial…"

"…or better a journey to find healing and love," Brethilwen finished the sentence for him. "And while we might have had a hand in this, the final outcome has always been in _your_ hands alone, or rather in your hearts. By putting the life of the other before your own you have both proven yourself worthy of Eru's gift."

"Eru's gift?" Thranduil's voice was barely more than a whisper, but its echo resounded loudly in Anna's head.

"Yes, it is most magnanimous of him really," Gandalf said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Through your soul bond you now will share eternal life together."

Anna's heart stopped in her chest at those words.

"W—what?" she stuttered.

Thranduil said nothing, apparently at a loss for words, so Gandalf elaborated,"This means that you, Anna, are being granted a new life. Leaving your mortal form behind, you will not be subject to death or sickness anymore, but will be imparted the resilience and strength of the Eldar instead."

"Yet, this is a gift which is not lightly given," said Brethilwen, "and it does come with a price as well."

"A price you must agree to, lest Eru will revoke his gift," Gandalf added. "Are you both prepared to hear what is his will?"

Anna and Thranduil both nodded silently and then Brethilwen spoke, "Both your souls and your lives will be inseparably entwined, and you shall live alongside each other for as long as this earth shall endure, but the path to Valinor will be forever shut for both of you. It is Eru's will that you are to remain in Middle-earth as rulers and guardians of this forest until your spirits will become part of the very land itself. Your children though are exempt from this. Your son Legolas as well as your future sons and daughters, should your matrimony be blessed with children, may sail West, if they choose to do so."

Anna shivered. She knew that the price for Thranduil was a high one to pay, yet this was much more than what she could have ever hoped for.

"Now that we have laid out everything to you, you must give us your answer," Brethilwen said, her grey eyes looking straight into her soul. "Are you both willing to accept this gift Eru is bestowing upon you?"

"Yes," Thranduil said without hesitation and Anna nodded with delight. "Yes, I am."

Gandalf smiled and the sunlight danced on his wrinkled face. "Then our labour here is done and you are both ready to embark on your new life together."

Brethilwen raised her hand in a graceful gesture and said, "May it be filled with joy and may Eru's blessings accompany you on your path."

* * *

Before Anna could say anything, their shapes dissolved into mist and so did the sunlit meadow. Darkness descended like a heavy blanket, the relentless flow of time grinding to a halt as life itself came to a standstill. An all-encompassing silence lay around her like the unperturbed surface of a clear mountain lake, not a single ripple marring the quiet perfection. The entire universe was holding its breath, listening, waiting.

Then she heard it, a chime in the void.

Slow and steady, the pulse of life picked up the familiar rhythm as it renewed itself. It was the beating of her own heart that reverberated throughout her entire being until every fibre attuned to her new song. A comforting and steadfast tune that would guide her through the endless expanse of time beckoning like an ocean without bounds, wild and untamed, beautiful and terrifying all the same.

* * *

"Thranduil?" she said into the silence of his bedroom, her eyes still closed.

"Yes?" he said quietly.

The heat radiating off his naked body warmed her inside and out, body and soul.

"I just had the strangest dream." She opened her eyes and turned her head sideways to look at him. His eyes were lost in the tangle of twigs above, which made up the canopy of his bed.

"I did too," he said, turning to face her.

"You did?"

"Yes."

"I saw Gandalf and Brethilwen, only that she was—"

"—different."

Anna swallowed. "So you saw and heard them?"

He nodded, his gaze alone speaking volumes.

She reached out to touch him, her voice laced with excitement and apprehension. "Is this real? Are we real?"

He caught her hand with his and brought it to his mouth, kissing the inside of her palm. "Yes," he said, looking at her while his lips hovered above the flower ring, "all of it." He took her other hand, holding both of them against his bare chest, the smoothness of his skin so delightful it made her toes curl.

"You are not sorry that you have made this choice, leaving Valinor behind for me?" she asked.

"No, I am not. My heart is tied to these lands and so is my soul. I am the guardian of this forest and I desire nothing more than to live out my days here, together with you."

"What about Legolas or our children, if we ever had any? What if they decide to sail West and we will not see them again?"

This was a thought that weighed heavily on her. She knew how much he loved his son and how difficult it would be for Thranduil to be parted from him. The pain of having lost her own daughter Matilda was still fresh. Thinking about having to let their future children go made her throat tighten.

"Legolas will not be alone in Valinor," Thranduil said. "He will have his mother by his side, who will receive him with joy. If we ever are blessed with children, which would be a wonderful and welcomed gift, we must find it in our hearts to let them go. It will be their choice to make, not ours."

"You would not blame me for being forever separated from them?"

"No, how could you even think such a thing? It is because of you that I have been given a new chance at life and I have made my choice. I chose you and I would do so again."

The honesty of his words brought tears to her eyes and she buried her face in her pillow, overwhelmed by her emotions. He pulled her into an embrace and they lay silently holding on to each other, their naked bodies entwined. Their bond flowed warm and golden between them, enveloping them like a comforting blanket, their hearts beating together as one.

"I can feel the change within you through our bond," he said after a while, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her back. "Your fears and your excitement, it's all there."

"I'm sorry that I cried," she said with a choked voice, leaning into his touch, "but this is all so new for me."

"The prospect of eternity can be quite intimidating, but I will be there with you, every step of the way." He reached for her chin to make her look up to him. "You do not need to fear the future."

"I'm not afraid as long as I'm with you. I will just need time to get used to my new self. It's like I am the same person, but something is different inside me."

"You are an _elleth_ now and no longer a human. The changes are subtle, but I can see them." His thumb followed the outline of her brow, over her cheek and down to her corner of her mouth. "You radiate a glow that hasn't been there before, like a light has been kindled inside you."

Her own hand went to his cheek, grazing over his flawless porcelain skin. "Your scar, it's gone," she said, her finger trailing along his jaw.

He shivered under her tender touch. "It has finally healed." He brushed away a strand of hair from her face to tuck it behind her ear. Suddenly he stopped his motion, and then a smile dawned on his face.

"What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your ears," he grinned.

"What's with my ears?"

He raised a suggestive eyebrow. "You should probably touch them yourself."

Anna brought a tentative finger to one of her ears, expecting the familiar round curve, only to find that there was a decidedly pointy edge to it now, perhaps not as prominent as Thranduil's, but pointed nevertheless.

Her mouth fell open, shock and surprise mixing inside her. "So, it _is_ real indeed."

"Of course it is and they look perfectly delicious on you." He traced an elegant finger along the sensitive tip of her ear, chasing unexpected goosebumps over her skin.

"If my finger can cause this, I cannot wait to find out what my tongue can do," he said suggestively.

"That sounds very indecent," she said, delighted by his playfulness.

"I want to be indecent with you, over and over again." He chuckled and gathered her in his arms. She snuggled against the crook of his neck, his scent washing over her, musky and sweet, and many other nuances she had never noticed before.

"You smell so good," she said, sinking her nose into the silken strands of his hair until she pulled a short dark brown hair from her mouth. With a frown she held it up.

"Is this what I think it is, elk hair? Does that mean you have gone against your own rules and allowed Aradan into your bed?"

"I know, I was surprised at myself," he said smugly. "It was an exception though. I already told him that he couldn't hop into my bed — our bed," he corrected himself, "anytime he pleased."

"Mmh, I'm not sure Aradan is going to be convinced so easily. He's quite cunning when it gets to sneaking into a soft bed."

"I'll make sure he knows his place," he said, capturing her lips in another slow and lingering kiss. The love flowing through their bond warmed her soul like the summer sun.

"So this is now our bed, then?" she asked, a low moan escaping her when his mouth found a sensitive spot right under her ear. He hummed against her skin in satisfaction.

"Yes, of course it is," he said, the heat of his lips reigniting her desire. "We are husband and wife now and I want to share this bed with you every night for the rest of our days here in Middle-earth."

"Sounds alluring," she purred. How had she gotten so lucky to deserve all this?

Thranduil raised himself on one elbow beside her and studied her body, his gaze openly lingering on her until she found herself blushing.

"But what to do first?" He playfully tapped her belly button with the tip of his finger. "Should I make love to you again? Should we take a bath together or should I call for something to eat?"

Anna yawned and stretched her arms above her head, a feeling of contentment settling inside her.

"All options sound equally tempting. Perhaps we could do all three of them, one after the other?"

"You are quite insatiable, my little flower," he said, laughing huskily. "But you know what I have been wanting to do?" A devious smile dawned on his face.

"What? Tell me." Butterflies danced in her stomach when he moved to lie on top of her, their bodies moulding perfectly against each other.

"This," he said, placing feathery kisses on her nose, then her cheeks and along her upper lip. "I'm going to kiss every single one of your freckles and I don't care how long it takes. We have all the time in the world now."

Quenya:

 _Isilmë_ \- moonlight

Sindarin:

 _elleth_ \- female elf

* * *

 **Author's Notes: First of all: THANK YOU for sticking with me on this journey! I'm so proud and happy that I've finally reached the culminating point of this story. Took me almost three years since I started this work, but here I am. Anna has been granted eternal life, Thranduil's heart and soul have been healed and both have found new love. *throws around heart shaped confetti* A chapter with no cliffhanger, yay!**

 **Now it's about tying loose ends and Anna and Thranduil still have a good amount of interesting things awaiting them as newlyweds. Anna herself will be facing a few challenges as she adapts to her new life as an elf. It feels a little bit like the moment when Frodo throws the ring into Mount Doom. The tale is not over yet, but the main quest is.**

 **With all that said, I do want to take some time to focus now on my original works. I hope you understand and I appreciate your patience! There will be more chapters coming, it might just take a little longer.**

 **Follows/favs and reviews are very welcome!**


	44. New Beginnings

**Yay! Another chapter is up! Are you ready for the fluff? Yes? Good, because this chapter is full of it. This is my Christmas gift to all my loyal readers. Enjoy and happy holidays! :D**

 **A BIG thank you goes out to those who have left a review on the preceding chapter: blasttyrant, RegencyGirl17, mystarlight, Stardust0500, xKaminix, Guest, Guest, Shineyfox and Eryn Aear.**

 **Thank you also to all those who have favourited and/or followed this story. I really appreciate your support!**

* * *

 _Chapter 43 - New Beginnings_

Life was now infinitely better for the Elvenking. Thranduil might have been an ancient elf, but since his soul bond with Anna, he felt he had the renewed strength and energy of a young _ellon_. If it hadn't been for his royal duties, he would have been perfectly content to stay in bed with her until exhaustion would claim them both. He loved everything about her, the way she moved against him, the way she said his name when she went over the edge, the way she curled up in his arms afterwards, her warm breath tickling his neck. He had caught himself silently admiring her delicately pointed ears, the visible proof that she had been granted a new life, and his heart sped up every time he realised how incredibly lucky they both were. This time he would do the right thing. He would not let anything nor anyone allow to get between them, no dark lord and no shiny gems. This he had vowed to himself while he had made love to her and Anna had practically glowed from within as their bodies and souls had found each other again and again.

He smiled quietly to himself while he half-listened to Galion laying out the rather dull plans for the feast that was to be held in two days. It seemed ages away when he had greeted his son and his returning army at the gates, yet it had been only a fortnight ago. So much had changed in those few days and so much was still to be done in preparation for the feast that it had to be pushed back to give everyone in the palace time to adapt to the new situation.

"My lord?" Galion looked up from the parchment in his hands from which he had been reading for — for how long exactly? Thranduil's thoughts had strayed yet again to the way Anna's mouth had felt on certain parts of his body.

"Yes?" Thranduil subtly tilted his head, feigning interest in the details of seating arrangements and dinner choices. Hopefully he hadn't missed anything important.

Galion let out a small sigh and frowned. "I was just asking your opinion on whether Mithrandir and Master Baggins are to be invited to the feast and should you wish so, where should they both be seated?"

Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose. Did he really have to answer this question? Moreover, did he really have to invite the two of them to this feast? The answer was crystal clear, no matter if he liked it or not.

"Yes, invite Master Baggins," he said, resigned to the prospect of having to play host for this overtly talkative fellow for a little while longer. "I am sure that Anna would want to see him partaking in the celebrations, just make sure you sit him far enough away from us." Far away preferably being his hobbit hole, but he kept that to himself. "Despite his inclination to talk too much, he has shown her nothing but kindness and it is because of him that the battle at Erebor could be tilted in our favour."

Galion scribbled something on his list and nodded. "And what about the wizard?"

"Invite him too, because if we don't, I bet my crown that he will find a way to show up at the feast nevertheless."

A small smile twitched around his butler's mouth when he ticked off another name on his list. "You are most likely right, my lord."

"Of course I am right. I know Mithrandir and his stealthy ways." Although he had to admit to himself that the wizard had surprised him as of late with his unexpected revelations.

He leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the surface of his massive desk. This was taking too long already.

"If there is nothing else you need my approval for, then I am leaving the preparation in your capable hands. I have complete trust in your experience and abilities."

"Thank you, my lord. I am humbled by your praise." Galion bowed with noticeable pride.

Complimenting his butler was easy, he thought with satisfaction.

"There is one detail though I would like to discuss with you." Galion raised his finger near apologetically.

Oh, Valar! Thranduil closed his eyes, but then he flicked his hand, indicating for his butler to proceed. One more detail he could handle, but then he wanted to see Anna, perhaps finally invite her to that shared bath he had promised her. The thought alone sparked a flame of devious delight inside him.

Galion cleared his throat and only when Thranduil raised an eyebrow did he finally speak.

"Erm, there is the matter of Lady Anna." Galion paused, fiddling with the parchment.

"What about her?" Hearing Galion use Anna's title that was now hers in accordance with their law, filled him with pride but also apprehension. What had been their intimate secret for a short but thrilling moment in time, was now public knowledge. Not that he bothered with anyone's opinion, he commanded enough authority that none would dare to question his choice, but being king also meant that nothing really was ever private. And while he had gotten used to his life being on display, it might not be so easy on Anna.

"Well, I thought that the feast might be an excellent occasion to formally introduce her as your wife," Galion elaborated. "This feast marks your victorious return from Dale and what better way to show your people that this truly is a time for new beginnings than to present yourself as a happily married royal couple. Not only does it point towards a bright future for the Woodland Realm, but I am also quite certain that it would help your wife ease into her role as the future Queen."

Galion paused poignantly, as if waiting for Thranduil's reaction.

Thranduil had to give his butler credit for not only thinking ahead, but also being astutely aware of the delicacy with which this topic had to be treated. Being the King's wife was one thing, but being crowned Queen was yet another thing altogether, something he hadn't yet allowed to think himself of, even though he was well aware that he would have to touch on this subject eventually. It would be the final step on Anna's path into her new life, but he wasn't sure they were both ready for this. He didn't want her to think that he was pushing her towards responsibilities she didn't want to have, but at the same time he did not want her to think that he was trying to keep her away from being the rightful ruler beside him because she suspected that some tiny part inside him might still cling to Calithiel. To make a long story short, it was complicated. His eyes darted to a dent at the edge of his desk, a remnant of his son's childish intents of handling a sword twice the size of a little elfling.

"You _are_ planning on making her Queen, aren't you?" Galion pressed on, when he was only met by silence from Thranduil.

"Yes, of course, I am." Thranduil nodded slowly and rubbed his temple, shutting away the old memories that had come flooding back. "But this is not something that should be rushed, as it will be quite an enormous change for Anna. I do wish to give her enough time to adjust to her new situation and I want her to have a say in this. It might be my wish, but it should be her choice."

"Yes, of course, my lord. There is no need to rush this. In fact, your decision to wait only reflects that you are an ever foresighted and wise leader."

"You are aware that I am long since immune to your flattery?" Thranduil arched an elegant eyebrow.

"It doesn't hurt to try." Galion folded his parchment and slid it into the pocket of his tunic. "Nevertheless, Lady Anna's status as your wife will require that she be given a lady-in-waiting. She also should be instructed thoroughly in the royal protocol, furthermore she will be expected to study in depth the history and customs of our people. If you approve of this, then I would be honoured to offer myself as her tutor as well as find her a suitable lady-in-waiting."

"Yes, do as you see fit," Thranduil said, rising from his seat behind his desk. If he didn't stop Galion right now, he would be sitting in this exact same spot for another hour, listening to his butler's endless ramblings about the history of the Woodland Realm. Images of his son's disastrous tutoring lessons flashed in his mind's eye. Hopefully Anna would be more agreeable to Galion's well-meant teachings.

"I promise that I will do my best to guide your young wife on her path. Once she has learned our ways, she will make a splendid Queen," Galion said and with a final bow he let himself out of Thranduil's chambers.

* * *

Thranduil gave the ever growing pile of parchments on his desk a withering glare. Knowing full well that his obligations would still be there waiting for him to be taken care of, he headed towards Anna's chamber, his mind set on taking care of something indefinitely more enticing. He stepped through the concealed door, his silvery robe a ripple behind him.

Since they had exchanged their vows, they had spent the nights and most of the days together in his chambers, and he intended for it to stay that way. Nevertheless, he had encouraged her to keep her own rooms, so she could have as much independence and privacy as possible. The king's chambers were rarely ever completely his own, since the matters of politics did not bother to halt at his doorstep.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw Anna standing in the middle of her room, wearing nothing but a thin ivory linen tunic, the seamstress kneeling at her feet and taking measurements for the new dress he had ordered. She looked enchanting, her simple beauty enhanced by her recent transformation. Even though she was standing with her back to him, he could feel the joy and contentment radiating off her through their shared bond. A smile dawned on his face. He was the luckiest _ellon_ on all Arda, and no one would convince him otherwise.

His musings were interrupted by someone nibbling at his fingers and when he looked down, Aradan was pressing his muzzle against his hand.

"What have you been up to?" he said, ruffling the fur between his ears.

"You mean besides trying to eat my books and attempting to drown himself in the pool?" Anna turned around towards him, while the seamstress sunk into a deep bow. "I swear he thinks he's a fish." The lopsided grin on her face spoke volumes and one glance at the multitude of puddles all over the floor told him the rest.

Aradan eagerly wagged his stubby tail and proceeded to lick his hand.

"I see," Thranduil said, swiftly retreating his hand and indicating for the seamstress to rise. "Please leave us," he commanded. "I wish to speak to my wife in private." An idea had begun to take shape in his head.

"Yes, my lord." The seamstress quickly gathered her things that lay spread on the floor all around Anna.

"Thank you for your work, Rîneth. I'm sure the dress will be beautiful." Anna smiled brightly at the seamstress and stepped carefully out of her way.

"Thank you, my lady." Rîneth's face lit up for a brief moment and when she had collected everything, she bowed to both of them and headed quietly for the exit door.

He didn't know why he was so worried. Anna would make a splendid Queen. She already had most of the staff of the royal household wrapped around her little finger. And the rest of his people would learn how to live with his choice.

He casually strolled over to Anna and pulled her into an embrace. "I missed you," he said, burying his nose in her hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, sweeter than the forest in springtime.

"You wanted me to stay here for the seamstress." She leaned into his touch and wrapped her arms around his waist. "And it was only for a few hours."

"It felt more like a few years." His hands trailed over her back down to her hips where his fingers found the laces of her tunic.

"Was it that bad?" Anna tilted her head back to look up at him. Her cheeks rounded with a barely held-back smile.

"Not bad, but boring." He kissed the spot under her ear which he knew would make her knees weak and began to pull at the laces.

"He is probably just trying t—to be thorough." Her voice wavered as he slowly kissed his way down the column of her throat.

"You don't know Galion the way I do," he said between kisses. "The Valar have blessed him with the gift of making even an interesting topic sound dull."

"Poor Galion," Anna remarked with a chuckle.

He undid the uppermost button at the front of her tunic and nipped at her skin. "But let us not talk of him anymore," he said, purposefully working his way through the second and third button.

Anna hummed in delight, her hands fumbling with the clasps of his robe.

"You taste delicious," he breathed onto her skin. "Better than any food known and not known to elvenkind." This is how he wished to spend his days, this and perhaps the occasional glass of Dorwinion in between.

A loud splashing noise and the sudden feeling of wetness on his back tore him from his ministrations. "Aradan!" He let go of Anna and turned around on the spot.

"You, my dear friend," he pointed at Aradan, who stood in the middle of a giant puddle, his fur dripping wet, "are in dire need of stretching your legs outside the palace."

He straightened himself and turned towards Anna, whose face oscillated somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

"He has been doing this all day already." She ran a hand through her hair and shrugged. "Perhaps Thalion should take him for a walk?" she suggested.

"I do have a better idea."

Aradan stared at both of them with wide eyes, as if he feared the worst.

"As a matter of fact, I myself wouldn't mind a stroll through the forest." He opened his hands in an inviting gesture. "What do you say? Would you care to join me for an outing in the snow?"

"Sounds cold, but tempting," she nodded and reached for her dress. "And I think we all could use some fresh air."

"I'm bringing the heavy cloaks. Even though you're an _elleth_ now and you won't be affected as much by the cold as you were before."

With those words he rushed to his chamber and returned with two thick woollen cloaks.

When both of them were ready, Aradan already awaited them eagerly at the doors.

"Someone is definitely excited to go out," Thranduil said, offering Anna his arm and then they headed out.

* * *

The snow had wrapped the woods in a thick blanket of purest white. As if to greet them, the sun peeked through the scattered clouds above. The air was crisp and fresh. He hadn't seen such a beautiful winter day in many years, not since the darkness had befallen his beloved forest.

Suddenly Anna shuffled closer to him and reached for his hand. "Are you sure it is safe? W—what about the spiders?"

"You don't need to fear the forest. The darkness has been pushed back, and while it's not completely gone, it has been weakened enough not to pose an immediate threat, especially not so close to the palace."

Anna stared into the thicket of branches hidden behind a veil of white before them, looking not quite convinced.

He patted her hand. "Besides, you are with me and no one dares to attack the king and his wife unless they wish to die a gruesome death." He had brought the knife he always carried inside his boot, just to be sure, but there was no need to mention that.

"If you say so," she said, pushing her chin forward and holding on to his hand a little tighter than necessary.

It didn't take him long to make her forget her worries, and soon they were both immersed in a conversation about trees and how their lives intertwined with his. Aradan jumped around them as if he wanted to make up for all the time he had spent cooped up in the palace and rubbed his growing antlers against any tree available.

"You see now why the forest is a better place for him than the palace?"

"Yes, fine, you were right," Anna said, brushing the low-lying branches as they passed them, sending the snow drizzling to the ground like powdered sugar.

"Of course I was right." He nudged her gently with his elbow. "As soon as he is strong enough, he will be moved to the stables with plenty of freedom to roam around as he pleases."

They stopped in a small clearing, Aradan cantering ahead of them, his skinny legs poking holes into the deep drifts of snow. The sun rays cast a golden light on the glittering white.

"This is beautiful." Anna crouched down to pile up some snow, shaping it into a slightly elongated heap.

"Yes, it is." He was glad to see her so relaxed after all the pain and suffering she had endured.

She picked up two branches from a nearby tree and stuck them into the mound of snow. "What do you think?" She threw him an expectant glance.

"What is this supposed to be?" He honestly had no idea. It looked like a loaf of bread with two odd branches sticking out.

"It's an elk of course." She tilted her head sideways, pouting. "Isn't that obvious?"

"Now that you say so, I definitely can see the semblance. It looks just like Aradan, except that Aradan does have four legs and isn't white."

"Are you making fun of me?" She narrowed her eyes.

"I would never." He bowed with a flourish gesture of his hand to underline his statement, when in fact, he was rather enjoying himself.

"You are not convincing me." She jabbed a finger at his chest and then bent down to scoop up some snow. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Do elves throw snowballs?"

"Elflings may do it, yes." He arched an eyebrow.

Anna rolled a perfectly round ball between her hands. "But you wouldn't consider this a suitable pastime for an ancient elf like yourself?" She was grinning from ear to ear.

Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes. Anna knew very well that it pricked his ego when she brought up his age, yet she rarely missed a chance to poke at his weak spot.

"I am quite versatile when it gets to how I spend my pastime," he said casually. "Besides, I'm not that old."

"Are you? Then perhaps you are afraid of a bit of snow, you mighty warrior king?" She casually tossed the snowball up in the air with one hand to catch it with the other.

"I dare you!" He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Are you challenging me to a snowball fight?" A smirk dawned on his face. This was about to get really interesting.

"Apparently I am," she said, lifting the snowball over her shoulder.

"I have to warn you. With my eyesight restored, my aim is now infinitely better than what it was before."

"One hit and I win." Without waiting for his answer, she sent the snowball spinning towards him with surprising speed but little accuracy.

He ducked it with ease and in the blink of an eye had scooped up one for himself.

"Very well," he said and flung his snowball at her shoulder with unwavering precision.

"That's unfair!" she shouted, brushing off her cloak. "You didn't give me time to prepare." She hastily worked on her next snowball.

"You brought this upon yourself," he said smugly. He already had a second one in his hands and was now circling her. Perhaps he _should_ give her time to get ready, but then where would the fun be in this? And he hadn't had so much fun since Legolas was a little elfling.

Anna tried to anticipate his movements, but he was too quick for her. She might be an _elleth_ now, but she was lacking his experience. Her snowballs were fast, but they went astray and didn't even get close to hitting him, yet his never missed their mark.

"You have to focus," he told her when she began throwing them around in random fashion, flinging snow in every direction.

"Like this." He took aim and threw one at her chest and then sent another one directly at her hip where it disintegrated into a puffy cloud of white with the force of the impact. This was almost too easy.

"I'm not giving up yet!" she called, her entire cloak dotted white. "I'll get that hit." She scooped up more snow, while Aradan ran back and forth between them as if he were trying to decide which side to take.

"Are you sure?" he teased her, juggling two snowballs. "We can stop now if you want."

"Never!" she fired another one that almost got within the range of his shoulder, but hit a tree instead.

He held a snowball in each hand, ready to fire them both, but then suddenly something bumped into him from behind. For a fraction of a second he lost his balance and before he could refocus, a snowball hit him square on the forehead.

"Ha!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight and jumping up and down. "See, I did it! I got you!"

He wiped the snow off his face and then he saw Aradan cantering towards Anna. Of course, it had to be the elk calf. The snow trickled down into his robe and while as an elf he generally was not affected by the cold, he did feel a slight shiver down his spine.

"That was just luck," he said, brushing the snow off his hair, "and Aradan was sabotaging my defences."

"Don't try to blame it on Aradan! He's as innocent as freshly fallen snow." She patted Aradan on the head.

"You are both working together, I see." He dropped his snowballs and strode towards Anna. "This cannot go unpunished."

"Then you have to catch me first! Come, Aradan!" Nimble as a doe she was dashing through the snow, Aradan sprinting alongside her.

They were headed towards a massive pine, its wide branches heavily laden with snow. A devious idea rose in his mind. Perhaps it was time that he taught her a small lesson. He didn't usually take advantage of their height-difference in such an obvious way, but this was too good to pass up. No one messed with the king, not even when it came to throwing snowballs.

"You are not getting away with this!" he called after her, his long stride allowing him to quickly catch up with both of them. While Aradan turned his attention towards the bark and began ripping off small pieces to devour them eagerly, he could hear Anna giggling from behind the tree-trunk. As silently as possible, he sneaked closer, bowing his head to avoid the low-lying branches.

"You cannot hide from me," he whispered, knowing full well that Anna could hear him. His breath curled in white wisps in front of his face and then he reached around the tree trunk and pulled her towards him.

"I still won," she said with a grin, and then her arms went around his neck.

"You won because you had help." He gave her a playful tap on the nose.

"Nothing wrong with a little bit of help from a friend," she said, running her hands over the sodden strands of his hair.

For a moment, he just looked quietly at her. She was so beautiful, her freckled cheeks reddened by the cold, her grass-green eyes sparkling with joy, tiny ice crystals clinging to her long lashes. The sight almost made him doubt his resolve, almost, but not quite.

"Aren't you going to kiss me?" she whispered and rose herself on tiptoes.

"I might." He leaned closer until their lips almost touched. Her warm breath mingled with his. "My little ice flower," he said into their shared space. Anna closed her eyes, her rosy lips parted in expectation. She was completely oblivious to everything around her.

This was the moment. He pulled at the low-lying branch right above her and quickly stepped away. It snapped back up and the whole load of snow poured down on Anna's head. A shriek escaped her that made Aradan abandon the tree bark and look at Thranduil in a way that was clearly reproachful.

"You!" she rubbed her eyes and spit out snow from her mouth.

"Did something happen?" He put on the most innocent face possible.

"You know exactly what happened." Anna scrunched up her face, the melting snowflakes running like slush over her cheeks and soaking her cloak. She looked like an angry snowman, or more like a snow-elleth. "You did that on purpose!" With her fingers she dug out clumps of snow that had slid into the collar of her cloak.

"This forest has a mind of its own," he said, biting back a grin.

"Don't try to blame it on the forest now," she said, but the slight smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth gave away her own amusement.

"I'll make it up to you." He helped her brush off the snow from her shoulders and pulled up her hood. "How about we go back to the palace and have some hot tea? And I can think of something else that will help you warm up." He put on what he hoped to be his most charming smile.

The elk calf abandoned the pine and darted towards them, sending a flurry of snowflakes flying through the air.

"Are you by any chance trying to bribe me into forgiving you?"

"Perhaps." He offered her his arm. "Is it working?"

"Perhaps," she said coquettishly, linking arms with him. "I'll think about it."

"I can accept that." He would show her exactly how persuasive he could be.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I hope you have enjoyed this fluffy chapter because I surely had a lot of fun writing it. I think both Anna and Thranduil deserve those relaxing moments after all the pain and suffering. There is definitely more to come, but I can't promise how quickly I will be able to update, since I'm still mainly working on my original stories. Thank you in advance for your patience.**

 **Follows/favs and reviews are very welcome!**


End file.
